Page 82 of Summer Affair
“No, this is so far from being about money. It’s about a promise you made to me. That you wouldn’t come in and try to change things. Steamroll over my decisions and my life.”
“I’m not steamrolling anything. We both agreed that this was going to be hard, that time away from each other was going to be hard. I was trying to find a solution that guaranteed we’d see each other as much as possible and worked for both of us.”
“One that would work for you. In my world, moving in with you would put Sammy right in the middle. You’d go from being his coach and friend into being his, what, stepdad?”
Whoa, stepdad wasn’t even on his radar. Mom’s boyfriend, sure. Splitting time? Absolutely. Marriage? He was nowhere near ready for that. He’d just found out that his career wasn’t over. That he still had what it took to be the best.
“That’s what I thought,” she said so quietly he could hear the disappointment in her voice and,man,that ate him up inside. He hated seeing her upset, hated even more so that he was the cause of that disappointment.
“Is that where your mind was going?” he asked softly.
“Marriage?” she asked, and he didn’t need to know her answer. Her tone said it all, that she was as opposed to the whole down on one knee, vowing in front and family and friends some kind of “I do.” Which should have left him feeling relieved. So then why did his chest seize up as if he’d just been sucker-punched? “I’m afraid of moving in with you and you think I’m trying to get you to propose?”
He noticed her body was trembling. Unable to stop himself he reached out and ever so gently brushed the backs of her hands.
“When we sat there at the bar and talked about marriage, I told you that I wasn’t sure that I’d ever want to be married again,” she said. “That wasn’t me being mysterious or using some kind of reverse psychology to get you to fall for me. I really don’t know if I want to ever be married again. To anyone.”
When she’d first said it, he thought it was because she was new to dating, putting herself out there for the first time. And he’d like to think it was fear from her past marriage talking, but something in those big brown eyes told him that this wasn’t some kind of dating cold-feet scenario. It was an honest-to-god, never-going-to-happen, not-if-we-were-the-last-two-people-on-earth kind of confession and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
He wanted kids and he wanted a wife and all the things that came with that—someday. But he also wanted Jillian, on a cellular level. He didn’t think he could survive without her in his life. But that was a worry for another day. Today, he was terrified that he’d unknowingly done something irreversible.
“I hate that you’re crying right now and that you’re hurting and, god, I want to make it better. But I can’t if I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“That’s part of the problem. The fact that you don’t know makes this even worse,” she said, and the way her voice cut off at the end obliterated his heart. “You went ahead and bought a house, with the intent of having us live with you. Even if it’s only for weekends, it tells me that you may have listened, but you didn’t hear me. Otherwise, you would understand that when I said I needed to take things slow, I meant it.”
He took her hand between his and she was shaking. “I’m all about taking things at your pace as long as the pace isn’t a step backward.”
“A week ago we laid right out there,” she pointed to the patio, “and I confided in you about how men in the past have pressed their agendas on me and how I was left with two options: give up the parts of me that didn’t fit or get left behind. This email makes it clear that moving forward requires me to change my world, uproot Sammy, walk away from my dream of owning a tasting room, and say goodbye to promises I made to myself in order to make your vision of us work.”
“If we’re going to make this work, things have to change. Not a lot, but small parts. For both of us. We have to find ways to meet in the middle. Find ways to be together.”
“Then why, before you put an offer on this house, didn’t you ask me first? What part of taking things at a natural pace includes you moving in here with us or us moving up there, two months after we started dating?” She wiped angrily at her tears. “I know most women wouldn’t see the problem, but I made it clear that I’m not most women.”
He opened his mouth to explain himself when he realized she was right. She’d asked for one thing. To give her the time and space as they navigate this together. She’d wanted to wait until they knew this relationship would be something permanent before they brought Sammy into the equation.
“I am so sorry,” he said, then cradled her head. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“You weren’t listening and that hurts worse.” With that, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, and the way her breath caught slayed him. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Before he could say anything, she was headed toward the door, and it took everything he had not to chase after her. But she’d made her stance clear, and he wanted her to know that he respected the hell out of her. And that with a woman as special as Jillian, there weren’t enough words in the dictionary to explain away what he’d done or how much he’d hurt her. And if he had any hope of earning her trust again, even if she just decided it was as friends, it was going to be through actions and on her terms.
“Shit.” He threw the stupid listing. “Shitshitshit.”
Clay worked tirelessly to make sure when he acted it was for what was best for everyone involved. This house, his plan, wasn’t what was best for Jillian and it sure wasn’t what was best for Sammy. In fact, he hadn’t considered how it would appear to a woman who’d had her life hijacked time and again by a revolving door of selfish men.
This situation was a problem of his own making. He was so terrified of losing her, he’d all but chased her away. And,god, he’d never forgive himself if he’d lost her for good. Bad timing, different stages, opposing home bases—none of that mattered when it was the right person.
And Jillian was so right, he’d bet his entire career on it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Resolutions from Jillian’s Journal
Live life balls to the wall.
“Jesus, Jillian, it’s after midnight.”
“Actually, it’s twelve thirty-six,” Jillian corrected, which meant it wastheirtime for a naked swim and other naked activities.
