Page 91 of The House Guest
“I have no idea.”
“There was only one woman, actually.”
Her eyes widened. “One?”
“Yes. Those first two years, I couldn’t fathom being with anyone who wasn’t you. And I actually hadn’t planned to.”
“How would that even be possible?”
“It was simple. I didn’t want anyone else and had it in my head that when I was out of danger, I would come find you and tell you I’d waited for you, even if you hadn’t waited for me. I was still committed to you, even though you didn’t realize it.”
She frowned. “What changed?”
“I found out you had moved on and had a child. I thought it was over for us. And I met a woman in Greece. Annabella eventually became my girlfriend. She was areally good person, but...” I shook my head. “She wasn’t you. I couldn’t replicate what I’d felt for you with anyone else.”
“So you broke her heart like you broke mine?”
“It wasn’t the same thing, but yeah, I broke up with her before I left.”
“I’m sorry.” She looked down. “My comment was rude. And uncalled for. My emotions are all over the place right now. I’m engaged with a child, and I’m getting jealous over some woman you dated in Greece. It’s like I’m one person when I go home and another person altogether when I’m in front of you.”
My chest filled with hope at the prospect of her jealousy. I warned myself not to get my hopes up, though. “From the get-go, I knew the thing with Annabella wasn’t going anywhere. She lived in Greece. All of her family did. She was close to her mother and sisters, and I knew she’d never leave them. It was probably one of the reasons I gravitated to her. Because I knew it would end, and I didn’t want a true commitment. I never hid the fact that I planned to go back to the States. I always made that clear.”
“Did she knowwhyyou were in Greece?”
“That was the other thing. I was still using an alias. She knew bits and pieces of my actual life, but no, she didn’t know everything. Not even my legal name.”
“That’s crazy.” She stared into the fire, deep in thought.
“Talk to me,” I finally said.
“I’m sorry. I still don’t know what to say. To understand that everything I believed for the past five years was a lie… I just don’t think I can process it that quickly.”
“I don’t want to make you sad, nor do I want to make your life difficult. I just needed to get this load off my chest. I couldn’t live with it anymore. If somehow getting another chance with you was part of the equation, that would’ve been a dream. But I also know that this situation is very complicated and that expecting that dream to come true could be a delusion. I’d settle for your forgiveness and your friendship. I don’t want to live in a world where you pretend I don’t exist because the thought of me causes you pain. I want to see you happy and know that you understand that I love you, not just as your former lover, but as your friend.”
As I looked at her conflicted face, I made an executive decision that seemed like the right thing to do, even if it killed me. “Originally, I thought I wouldn’t leave until you told me to go. But I actually think it might be better if I put some space between us. You shouldn’t have to lie about your whereabouts just to appease my need to talk to you. Nor do I want you to feel pressured. So, I think I’ll go back to California.”
Her brows furrowed. “Really?”
“Yes. I think that’s best. Don’t you? I don’t want to be some secret that’s stressing you out.”
An alarm went off on her phone.
She looked down at it. “Shit. I lost track of time. I have to go.”
“Go get your daughter,” I said, feeling choked up and a bit depressed.
“When will you be leaving?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“Probably tomorrow.”
The look of alarm on her face told me she didn’t want me to go. But I knew her hands were tied right now. My gut told me to remove myself from the equation to allow her to draw whatever conclusion was best for her.
“It won’t be the last time you see me unless you want it to be. All you ever have to do is tell me you need me, and I’ll be on the next plane back. Primrose, I need you to know I will always be here for you.”
To my shock, she reached for me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me into a tight embrace. I felt her heart beating against my chest and closed my eyes, relishing the feel of what I knew to be true: Primrose still loved me.
Maybe that love was different now, maybe it would have to remain unrequited. But there was solace in knowing it hadn’t totally disappeared. I’d take that over nothing. I’d take that over her believing I was the heartless prick she’d lived the past five years thinking I was. But I also wondered if this hug was goodbye. That wrecked me.
