“Ban, we need to talk.”
His voice, the very sight of him, fans hope in my chest for an instant—until I remember the Cindy he brought tonight and hear Zo’s words again, yet another reminder that we don’t belong together. Yet another time I’m not sure what to trust. Conscious of all the people around us, I press my lips tight to hold back the emotion threatening to spill over, and march past him without saying a word.
The sign for restrooms hangs overhead, glowing like the North Star, and I follow the light toward the ladies’ room. It’s empty, but I don’t stop until I’m in the last handicapped stall. I lean against the wall and surrender to my tears. I can’t even track their source. Is it the stunt Zo pulled, the public declaration of love from a saint, which will only make it harder for me to leave him, will only invite public scorn? Is it the Cindy on Jared’s arm tonight, looking like his perfect match? Is it the shame of Zo knowing I fucked Jared? Of him having a face, a name, a person to pair with my betrayal? Is it fear that, despite his strong showing tonight, I could still lose my best friend to an incurable death? It’s all those things, and under the crushing weight, I sink to the bathroom floor and weep. Silent, hot tears springing from every problem, every hurt, every close call, every stolen kiss, every single thing in my life that has gone wrong—all at once. The cork pops, and as I knew they would, the tears overflow and won’t stop.
“Banner.”
Oh, God. Please not now.
“Ban, I know you’re in here.” Jared’s voice is getting closer. I hear him opening stalls, searching for me. It’s only a matter of time. Soon I’ll see his feet in the space under the door. As best I can, I stuff the tears back into that black hole bottle and pull myself up, braced for the battle I never seem to stop fighting. The battle to resist Jared Foster. When he flings the door open, I’m ready.
“This is the ladies’ room,” I say, glaring at him, clinging to the image of Cindy 2.0 on his arm. “I can’t believe you followed me in here.”
“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t.” He locks the stall door, stalking toward me in the space shrinking with every inch he closes between us.
“You can’t be here.” I fold my arms under my breasts, conscious of how my cleavage is on display. His eyes drop to my chest, the glacial blue heating, wanting.
Hell no.
“I am here,” he replies with a calm I know to be false. A muscle ticks in his jaw. His hands are knotted into fists in his well-tailored pants. “And you will talk to me.”
“Go talk to your date,” I snap, turning away from him, facing the diaper changing station.
He grabs my arm and wrenches me around.
“No, you don’t get to do that,” he says, rage burning like a gas light in his eyes. “Not when I just had to sit through the league’s patron saint telling the whole world he loves you. Had to watch him claim you in front of everyone and couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”
“Jared—”
“Haven’t been able to do anything about it for months.”
“Haven’t fucked for months, don’t you mean?” I fire back, jerking my arm from his grasp. “Isn’t that what she’s about? Your new Cindy? I said I didn’t expect you to wait, but you could have at least told me so I didn’t have to find out this way.”
“Find out what exactly?” His voice drops to subzero and his expression is the face of a cliff. “That I’m signing a Swedish soccer player who wanted to attend the awards tonight? Is that what I was supposed to tell you?”
My righteous indignation sputters, shrivels.
“What?” I ask dazedly, wondering if I’ve gotten it all wrong or if he’s just that convincing.
“As for fucking,” he grits out. “I haven’t slept with another woman. Haven’t wanted anyone else since you came back into my life. I haven’t kissed anyone else. Can you say the same? ’Cause you tasted like him last time I saw you.”
“I told you—”
“You haven’t told me shit, Banner.” With one impatient hand, he disrupts the neatness of his hair and paces in the small stall. “Except that you had to do this, and I couldn’t see you, and he was more important.”
“He was fighting for his life, Jared.”
“I get that, but he used it to keep you close, to keep you away from me, and I resent him for it. He was playing his own game. He knew it was me all along. He told me so when I was there.”
“I realized that tonight. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He shrugs, discomfort twisting his expression.
“He said it would distress you, only make it harder, and I believed him. I knew you wouldn’t leave him while he still needed you, and I agreed that it would only create more tension.”
He cups my face between his hands, his eyes losing some of the ice, warming with affection, with passion.
“I should have told you,” he says softly. “I wanted him to know from the beginning anyway.”
I nod, leaning into the warm strength of his hands.
“I’ve always known how to play the game, Ban. Always calculated what every move would yield and how I would come out the winner.” He shakes his head, helplessness foreign on his face. “But I didn’t know how to do this, how to handle wanting you for so long and then losing you again to someone we both know deserves you more than I do.”
And his words, so untrue, crystallize the truth for me.