Page 49 of Risk It All
Her eyes grow wary. “I told you about my lifestyle—”
“That's not what I asked,” I snap.
She stands and walks to the window. “I thought you understood.”
Her non-answer is the answer. She likes me, but she doesn't care enough to make time for me. She accused me of being a heartbreaker, but it turns out it's her. It would be funny, if it didn't hurt so much.
“I thought I did too,” I say. “When you said you travel a lot, I thought you meant you came and left, not that you were simply gone all the time.”
“It's been less than a week and already it's like the others—”
“Don't compare me to the other men, Madeleine.” I can hear the darkness in my tone, but don't care. I'm not like other men and I'll be damned if I let Madeleine suggest that I am. “I don't want to change you. I was prepared for you to travel frequently, but I'd also like it if you cared about me enough to make time more than every few months.”
“I made time to take you to Nigeria,” she bites out. “Now I have to make up the work that had to wait.”
Crap. I hadn't considered that she'd rearranged her schedule to help me on this trip. I blow out a breath. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize.”
She turns away, looks out the window, and I have a sinking feeling that the situation is not salvageable.
I stand and go to her. When I reach out to touch her, she moves away from me. “Why didn't I stand my ground?”
My heart clinches, because in her voice I can hear her breaking away from me.
“Because there's something special between us.”
She shakes her head.
Now I'm feeling desperate. “Don't. Don't give up yet. I know it looks like I wasn't supportive of your work, but it's only because the idea of not seeing you for months is difficult. I want to be with you.”
“What about next time? The Tibet trip could be a month or more.”
“I'll miss you and wait for your return. There's nothing that we can't have if we both want it enough.” I'm asking again if she cares enough for me to make the relationship work.
“Sometimes you can't have everything you want without losing a part of yourself.”
With those words, I know she's gone to me. It both hurts and angers me.
I choose to work with the anger. “I'm not going to beg, Madeleine. I learned a long time ago to cut my losses.”
“Begging won't make a difference.”
I have the urge to shake her. Doesn't she see that what we have is different? That this isn't a casual affair or a simple matter of lust? We have a connection. How does she not see that?
Maybe she doesn't see it because she doesn't feel it. I thought she had when we made love, but maybe I was projecting my own feelings. She's kept a wall around her most of the time I've known her. Why would it be different now? She'd been attracted to me and even allowed herself to indulge that attraction, but she hadn't let her emotions become a part of it.
So I have to let her go, because I'll be damned if I'm going to put myself in a position to be rejected. I had enough of that growing up.
“You can take the bedroom, I'll sleep on the couch,” I tell her.
At first, I see surprise on her face, but when I look closer, it actually appears to be relief.
She goes to the bedroom, and shuts the door without a glance to me. I consider getting a drink. Something stronger than wine, but opt against it. It's been a crazy few days and what my body needs is rest.
I don't bother to open the sofa bed, instead grabbing the throw blanket from the back of the couch and laying down. I close my eyes, but I can't sleep. I hate leaving things with Madeleine like this. I can't believe she's totally immune to me.
I realize, too late, that I reacted badly. So of course, she's going to put up her wall again. All I need to do is talk to her. Let her know I'll do better in the future. Maybe I can arrange to meet her in Mexico.
I consider going to talk to her right then, but decide she's not in a mood to hash things out. I'll wait until morning. After a good night's sleep, we'll be able to talk rationally.
