I laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw before slipping out of bed. “To clean up. You made a mess of me.”
A smug grin tugs at his lips. “Damn right, I did.”
Rolling my eyes, I grab a robe and head to the bathroom, feeling his eyes on me the entire way.
By the time I return, he’s still in bed, sitting up now, his hair mussed, sheets pooled around his waist. There’s something almost boyish about the way he looks at me—like he’s seeing something precious, something he doesn’t quite know what to do with.
I slide back under the covers, letting his warmth envelope me again. He doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls me close, his fingers brushing along my arm in absentminded patterns.
And then, out of nowhere, “You should move back in with me.”
I blink, my body stiffening slightly against his. “What?”
He tilts his head down, looking at me like it should be obvious. “I want you here. You should be here, with me. Especially with the baby coming.”
My heart clenches.
It’s tempting. God, is it tempting.
There’s a part of me that wants to say yes, to fall into this life with him, to let myself believe this means everything between us is fixed.
But it’s not.
I lift my head, searching his face. “I want to, but… Rory, you still haven’t apologized.”
His brows draw together, confused. “Apologized for what?”
I sit up, pulling the sheet with me. “For how you treated me before. For making me feel like I was nothing more than aninconvenience to you. You’ve changed, I know that. But you’ve never actually said you were wrong.”
His jaw tightens. “I’ve been trying, Clary. I’ve done everything I can to prove that I?—”
“That’s not the same,” I cut in, shaking my head. “You can’t just act like things are better without ever acknowledging why they were broken in the first place. I need to hear you say it, Rory. I need to know that you understand how much you hurt me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I regret it, alright? You think I don’t? You think I don’t hate myself for the way I made you feel?”
“Then say it.”
He looks at me, eyes burning with frustration, with something almost like fear. Like he doesn’t know how to give me what I’m asking for.
Like he doesn’t want to.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “I can’t do this if you don’t, Rory. I can’t just move in and pretend the past never happened. I need more than just effort. I need honesty.”
Silence.
He doesn’t say anything.
And that’s my answer.
My throat tightens, but I nod, forcing myself to move, to get up, to get dressed. My hands shake slightly as I pull my clothes back on, but I don’t stop. The mood between us is ruined now. Everything that we did together feels meaningless.
Rory just sits there, watching me, something dark and conflicted in his expression. He doesn’t stop me, nor does he try to take back what he said. He just stares, a disappointed look in his eyes that tells me everything I need to know.
Why did I think I wouldeverbe more to Rory than this? Even his nicknames for me are carefully chosen to remind me that I’m beneath him, akin to a beloved animal. Not a person.
I gather my things, a storm of emotions inside my chest. I can’t do this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I thought he’d changed. But Rory Brannagan will never change.
And when I walk out of his penthouse, closing the door behind me, I don’t look back.