Page 135 of One Night Only
“No?”
“She refused.”
“She…why?”
“I don’t know.” He sounds very, very tired. “I don’t know what she’s thinking. She seemed confused.”
“I’m not,” I say. “There’s only one reason she wouldn’t sign them. She wants to get back together with you.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to get back together with her.” His head snaps up, his lips a thin line. “How many times do I have to say that? Or have I been talking to the ether this entire time?”
I glare at him, letting him know that I am the only person allowed to be angry right now.
“Why don’t people talk about it?” I ask. “Why didn’t Paul tell Annie about her? Why all the lies? How come in Kilgorm you—”
“Do you want me to answer or are you just going to keep going?” he interrupts, sarcastic before he catches himself. “Sorry,” he says, sounding more contrite. “I didn’t sleep.”
He sits up, taking a breath. “People talk. It’s the reason I don’t go home a lot. Everyone there knows me and knows what happened. You’re from a small town, Sarah. I’m sure you can imagine what it’s like. Having to deal with all the pitying looks, the conversations that would stop as soon as I came into the room. I told you Harry offered to bring me over here. I may not have been totally honest about that. He didn’t look at my middling degree and a few years of experience and see his next business partner. He offered me the job so I could get out of there. So I could start something new and be someone new and not have Fiona hammered into my brain everywhere I went. I don’t know why Paul didn’t tell Annie. I can only assume it’s because I told him so many times to never bring it up. I don’t define myself by her anymore. You have to understand that.”
He slumps back against the couch, looking bleak.
“I don’t know what else to say,” he says finally. “I’m trying to think of more, but I’ve got nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
I wrap my arms around my body. “I thought you—”
I jump as a phone rings beside me. It’s Declan’s, where he left it on the coffee table.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” I ask when he doesn’t move.
“No,” he says, his eyes on me. “We’re not done.”
“But it’s Paul,” I say, glancing at the screen.
“I don’t care. What were you going to say?”
The ringing falls silent only to immediately start again.
“Mother of—” He grabs it, looking very much like he wants to throw it against the wall. “What is it?” He disappears into my bedroom, shutting the door.
It’s not until he leaves that I realize how tense I am. My jaw is clenched, my shoulders stiff. There’s a line on my brow so deep it’s probably permanent. I force myself to relax, dropping my arms and taking a breath.
God.
I stand cautiously, searching my feelings for any lingering anger but there’s none. If anything, I feel relieved.
I believe him.
I swallow, glad my leg has stopped shaking. I can hear Declan murmuring in the other room, so I go to the counter and rip open the bag of pretzels. I haven’t eaten all day, too nervous to keep anything down, and the first taste of it makes my stomach growl.
I grow calmer as I crunch, my thoughts a little clearer even if my feelings aren’t and I’m almost proud of myself for confronting him, for standing my ground and making him talk to me.
He’s right. We’re not done. But we’re getting there. We’re talking.He’stalking. More than just flirting, more than cautious chasing and goading.
I want to tell him what I really think. How much I missed him when he was gone. How upset I was to find out about her. How scared I was about today because I…because…
