“And she . . . wasn’t?”
“We met when I was working for the government,” he said. “She was in medical school at the time, and just as busy as I was. At first, everything was fine between us because we didn’t ask much of each other. Though in hindsight, I think I asked nothing of her because my head was always in my work and she didn’t ask anything of me because she knew that and didn’t try to compete. Which really meant that I shortchanged her at every turn, even though I really cared about her. I tried to put her on my radar, I really did. We moved into an apartment, the theory being that at least we’d sleep together every night.”
Colbie was working at not feeling the teensiest little bit of jealousy. No one had ever tried that hard to keep her. She got that the point to this story was that Spence had shortchanged Clarissa, but all she saw was that he’d at least given it everything he’d had at the time to give. “What happened?” she asked.
“We stayed together for several years. She began a charity organization that brought meds and doctors to remote corners of the world, desperate remote corners, which meant she was gone a lot. Which worked for me. It became easy to forget her needs, to forget to put her first. I got out of the habit way too easily. And then came a huge fund-raiser she’d cochaired, and it was incredibly important to her. As it was the only thing she’d asked of me all year, I promised to go.” He shook his head. “She reminded me every day for two weeks and I brushed off her concerns that I’d forget.”
“And . . . you forgot,” she guessed.
“I did.” He looked pained. “I didn’t show up and she went without me, and I didn’t realize I’d forgotten the most important night of her life until she got home late that night dressed to the hilt, steam coming out her ears.”
“She dumped you,” she said, surprised. Up until that moment, she’d assumed he’d been the one to break it off.
“Oh yeah, she dumped me,” he said ruefully. “She said I was going to end up a lonely old man someday. Actually, she yelled that part, right after chucking a shoe at my head. Then she packed her things and moved out, leaving my sorry ass in her dust.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, well. I deserved it. I was a self-absorbed, selfish dick.”
“You don’t seem self-absorbed or selfish to me,” she said.
“Like I said, give me some time.”
She didn’t believe this. Or more accurately, she didn’t want to believe it. The thing was, he said only what he meant, and she knew he meant this, to his core. He’d warned her from the beginning that he would disappoint her.
She just didn’t want it to be true.
“The truth is,” he said, “I’m busy all the time and no woman’s going to be okay with that for the long term. So undoubtedly, I’m going to end up a lonely old man, just like Clarissa so aptly predicted.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said. “I’ve seen you engrossed in work. You’ve still always made time for your friends. And me.”
“That’s because you’re a welcome distraction.” He tugged her hair. “Beautiful, funny, smart . . . but a definite distraction nevertheless.”
She stared at him, torn between melting at what he thought of her and wanting to cry at the knowledge that this would never be anything more than an amazing interlude. “Good thing, then, that I’m just a temporary one,” she said with more cheer than she felt. Because what she felt was a hollow pit in the depths of her gut that she didn’t want to name. She pulled a quarter from her purse and turned to the fountain.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Making a wish.” She tossed the quarter into the water and closed her eyes.
“For . . .?” he asked, sounding worried.
Silly man. Although he should be worried. “For true love. For you.” She opened her eyes and grinned at his horror. “See, you do believe.”
“You’re a scary woman,” he said.
“Now you’re catching on,” she said as from inside her pocket, her phone went off again.
She sighed.
“You should probably make sure the house is still standing,” he said. “Here, let me.” He took the phone and looked at the screen. “Do you have a third brother named Jackson?”
“No.” She took the phone back and stared at it before hitting ignore.
“Problem?” Spence asked.
She took a deep breath, realizing with a shock that she’d so thoroughly distanced herself from her life for the past week she’d actually forgotten about Jackson. “He’s my agent.”
Spence looked surprised. “You must be close to being published to have an agent. That’s great, Colbie.”
His encouragement was sweet, but it also made her feel guilty for not telling him about this part of her life. You’ve only known him five days, she reminded herself. And this escape was private. And extremely important to both her mental health and her career. And whether they knew it or not, it was also important to her family, staff, and editorial team, all of whom counted on her. And in fact, just thinking about it, she felt the familiar smothering pressure to sustain the franchise her life had become sink into her chest.
She looked into his eyes and knew she couldn’t do it—she couldn’t, shouldn’t, keep secrets from him. He was private, incredibly so, but honest. She needed to be the same. At least as much as she could be. “You know how you’re bad at love?” she asked. “Well, so am I. I picked Jackson as my first love and it wasn’t reciprocated.”
His eyes were sympathetic but not pitying, which was a good thing. A nice thing.
“Since the past sucks,” he murmured, slowly pulling her into him, kissing her jaw, “maybe we should stick to the present.”
Good idea. Great idea. But she wasn’t done coming clean. “Spence?”
“Yeah?” His mouth was on her throat now, so erotic and sensual that she felt her eyes roll back in her head.
“There’re things about me that I still haven’t told you,” she whispered. “Things I’m not ready to talk about, at least not yet. Are you okay with that?”
He met her gaze and held it. “I want only what you’re willing to give me, Colbie. No more.”
For a moment, that stopped her. He wanted only what she was willing to give, meaning he didn’t need anything more than that. Which meant he really was fine with this being whatever it was until she left. And after that, the end.
And as she’d said that was what she wanted too, she had no business even thinking about it. None at all.
But she was thinking about it, a lot.
She was thinking how nice it would be if they decided to take this wherever it took them, even past their Christmas Eve expiration date.