“Who was she?” I said.
He turned around. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does matter. If this conversation is going where I think it’s going, it matters a whole lot.”
“And where do you think this is going?”
“Oh no. I’m not making it that easy for you. If you want to do it, you do it yourself.”
“The agreement was that this would end.”
“I think we moved past that agreement a while ago.”
“Since when?”
“Don’t. Don’t pretend like you aren’t as deep in this as I am.”
“We’re not deep in this, Lexie. This was just … It was an affair. As agreed. And now it’s over.”
Even though I’d known it was coming, nothing prepared me for the loss I felt. My knees actually buckled and I pressed a hand to the top of my armchair for support.
My reaction caused the first flicker of emotion on Caine’s face since the Delaneys’.
“It wasn’t just an affair,” I whispered.
“Of course it was.” Monotone. Again.
It was like listening to someone touch polystyrene. I gritted my teeth in reaction. “Why is Mr. Cold Carraway back?” I wondered out loud, flinching at the bitterness I heard in my voice. “What secrets are you hiding? They must be big to bring this guy back. I thought I got rid of him weeks ago.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m only one man.”
“No, you’re not.” I shook my head adamantly and took a step toward him. “I didn’t fall in love with that man I met on a photo shoot. Or the man who was my boss for weeks.”
“Alex—”
“I fell in love with Caine Carraway. I fell in the love with the man who teases me, laughs with me, listens to me, and respects me. A man who wakes me up every morning by making love to me, and then kisses me good night every evening after fucking the life out of me—like he can never get enough. No man has ever been as deep inside me as this man, in every way. And because of that when he looks at me he sees me like no one ever has before. That first man judged me, mistreated me. Caine Carraway did not. He made me feel safe for the first time in my whole life. I want him back. I love him. I want him back,” I pleaded.
He wouldn’t look at me. He gave me his profile, staring into my kitchen.
“Caine?”
When he finally met my gaze his eyes were blazing with emotions, all so tightly knit I knew he was in turmoil. He was angry, he was distraught, he was desperate, and he was guilty, all in equal measure.
“You don’t love me.” He shook his head. His voice sounded like sandpaper rasping against stone. “You can’t because you don’t know who I am. I never really let you.”
We stared at each other and the tension between us pulled, like each of us was holding the end of a long piece of piano wire. One more tug and …
“Liar,” I bit out finally, feeling a volcano of ugliness erupting from the pit of my stomach.
“You don’t have to give me two weeks’ notice. Just give me a few days to find a replacement and I’ll release you from your contract.”
“Coward.”
His expression dulled again and he started toward me. “I’m not sticking around for this.”
The smell of his cologne wrapped around me as he brushed past me, and that along with the heat of his body flooded me with memories of our time together. I’d never felt pain like it in my life. “That’s right,” I said, the words sounding as empty as Caine’s. “Don’t choose me. I’ve come to expect nothing less.”
He hesitated a moment, his shoulders hunching up a little.
I took a tentative step toward him and whispered, “I hope your secrets keep you warm at night.”
And then just like that, he shrugged whatever emotion he’d been feeling off and marched out of my apartment for the last time.
In the dark I stumbled in disbelief to my sofa, momentarily numb.
I heard the sound of his car pulling away from my street and driving off into the distance. My belly-deep sob rose to chase after it.
CHAPTER 24
“You have four new messages.”
I stared stonily at my answering machine. If it were up to me I’d be ignoring the little bastard, but the blinking red light on it lit up the dark when I switched off my bedroom light. If I wanted to pretend I was going to get some sleep tonight, I was going to have to listen to the messages or delete them so the blinking would cease.
It had not been a good day.
My face was swollen and puffy. I hadn’t eaten a thing. I drank two glasses of wine I’d then puked up, and because I hadn’t eaten anything it was just red liquid that came back up, and that had made me want to vomit again.
My cell had rung, the chorus of Alanis Morrisette’s “You Oughta Know” flooding my apartment at least a dozen times, so I’d put it on silent. That didn’t work, because people just called the apartment instead and left messages on the answering machine.
If I listened to the messages I had no doubt in my mind that they would make me feel worse.
And yet I’d discovered that worse than the pain of watching the man I loved walk out on me was the cruel, grasping, cloying pain of that abysmal little thing called hope. It clung to me. It whispered in my ear.
There’s still time.
He could change his mind.
When you walk into work tomorrow he’ll take one look at you and he’ll want you back.
I hated that hope. I hated that it made me feel so weak and broken by him. Like without him, without that hope, I’d never, ever quite be the same again.
I hated that he had that power over me.
And I hated that that stupid hope had me thinking that perhaps one of the four messages was from Caine.
He could have called to change his mind.
Sighing impatiently at my pitifulness, I stabbed a finger at the button to listen to my messages.