Page 57 of Ravaged
“No, but the person who should isn’t here and, if he or she was, probably wouldn’t. So here I am, doing it in their place. Because the point is you deserve one.”
“Now you’re trying to make me cry,” I whisper. “And didn’t Jordan tell you I have a reputation for being crazy? Crazy doesn’t cry.”
He snorts, picking up his beer bottle and leaning back in his chair. “Sometimes I would question if my wife had an ace missing from her deck, and she’d cry over any commercial about puppy-and-cat shelters.”
“Sounds like your wife was not only fun but had a huge heart.” Something tells me I would’ve really like hanging out with Jerricka Granger.
“She did,” he murmurs, his eyes getting that distant glaze they adopted every now and then. It didn’t take a genius to suss out his wife occupied his thoughts.
“Daniel.” I reach for the hand not holding the beer, skirting our plates and skimming the back of his with my fingers. “I need to ...” I shake my head, drawing my arm back across the table and settling my hands in my lap. “I’m not being fair to you.”
He lowers the beer to the table, his hazel eyes sharpening. Yet his voice remains even, gentle, as he asks, “What do you mean?”
“I’ve enjoyed your company so much these last couple of weeks that I haven’t been honest. You are such a good guy and a good ... friend. And that’s all we will be. I’m sorry I wasn’t up front about that from the beginning. I wish I did feel more, want more. Maybe that’s another reason I didn’t say anything. Because I wanted it to be different. But I refuse to lie to you anymore. Especially if it means you can find awoman who can give you what I can’t.” God, I want to look away from those intense hazel eyes, duck my head in guilt. But I won’t. That’s a coward’s way out. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”
Quiet wraps around our table, and even the din from the other diners can’t penetrate our semiprivate corner. Anxiety rises within me, and I part my lips to apologize again, to try and ... explain? I don’t know, do anything to alleviate the pain of rejection I’ve inflicted.
“Daniel—”
“It’s okay, Miriam.”
“It’s not—”
“If you’re going to say, ‘It’s not you; it’s me,’ please don’t do that.”
My chin jerks back into my neck. “Well, hell no, I wasn’t going to say that,” I say, offended. Then I glimpse the corners of his mouth twitch, and I narrow my eyes on him. “Very funny.”
He chuckles, and though it’s low and soft, it is a chuckle. Relief pours through me, and I exhale. Oh God. Am I going to cry? Because yeah, I’m that damn relieved.
“I was going to say it’s not okay. What I did wasn’t okay. I should’ve been up front from our second date. I strung you along, and that was cruel, even if my intentions were far from that.”
“Miriam, I know that,” he says, and his voice is kind. But I notice he doesn’t reach for my hand. And that’s fair. Though my chest squeezes. Hard. “There’s nothing cruel about you. Look, you have nothing to feel guilty about. I don’t know if I could’ve offered you a relationship; you are my first date since Jerricka. Even going out with a woman is a step for me, and I appreciate you for it. Yes, I’m attracted to you; you’re a gorgeous woman. And yes, I was hoping to become your lover. But you don’t need to be sorry for not feeling the same; you can’t help that. And you definitely don’t need to apologize for wanting to spend time with me. I’ve enjoyed it, Miriam. I’ve enjoyed you. And if you want to continue that, I’m here.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Good.” He picks up his burger and nods at me. “Now, let’s finish dinner. I promised you the best burgers in Denver, and these are it.”
Smiling, I pick mine up and bite into it. He’s right—this burger is damn good. But I can’t enjoy it like I should. Guilt and a sadness sit in the pit of my stomach.
I’m not attracted to the man who looks at me with heat and smoke in his eyes.
And I can’t have the only other man who knows me inside out and makes my heart sing like a gospel revival.
Daniel might’ve absolved me of my guilt and sorrow, but I can’t pardon myself.
For the second time in a number of weeks, I arrive at Jordan’s house unannounced. By now, I’m no stranger to his gated community, so after the security guard waves me through, I park, and my feet carry me up his driveway, sidewalk, and porch by pure muscle memory. Was this how he felt a couple of days earlier when he showed up at my house, desperate to get to me? After Daniel dropped me off, I didn’t even go into my town house. I waited until his headlights disappeared, then got into my car and drove here. To the one person I could count on to ... what?
Make the hurt go away?
Make me forget?
Yes and yes.
I knock on the front door and wait. Then silently curse under my breath. Shit. It’s after ten o’clock. He might not even be home. Jordan is a hot-as-fuck man and, according to every online gossip site, enjoys a very active sex life. Not that we talk about that. Not that I want to eventhinkabout that.
God, I’m such a hypocrite.
Still, he could be out in someone else’s bed or even have that person in his, and here I am, pounding on his front door, cockblocking. Yeah, I should go. Right now. Feet,move. Why are we notmoving?
