Page 85 of Beautifully Messy
“Jules, this isn’t one of your romance stories. Some of us live in the real world, where life is full of people who disappoint more often than they show up. And to survive, we don’t run into that pain.”
She watches me closely, waiting for more, but I have nothing left to give. I blink hard, pushing back the tears pooling at the corners of my eyes.
“I was clearly mistaken. And honestly? It’s a crush. A stupid, silly crush. It didn’t mean anything.”
A cough from the doorway cuts through the air. It’s him.
My heart stutters against my ribs before I can stop it. I turn away, inhaling slowly, summoning every last shard of anger I have left, bracing myself as my chest heaves, trying to pull in air.
Jules looks at me once more and grabs my hand. “I’ll be right outside. Justtalkto him.”
She crosses the room, her footsteps light against the floor, and murmurs something to him that I can’t hear. He steps inside. The lock clicks, sealing us in to talk free from interruption. His footsteps are cautious. I keep my eyes locked on the mountains. Behind me, I feel his heat radiating from a few steps away, close enough to set my skin on edge.
“Sydney, will you please look at me?”
When I don’t respond, when I don’t turn around, he begins talking.
“When you walked away last night, I didn’t know what it meant. Part of me thought that was my answer. I told you I loved you. I wanted to be your family. Then he called out, and you bolted.” His voice cracks at the words.
I swallow hard against the bile in my throat. My worry over Mason finding us. Memories from the deck and his words press into the cracks of my fury.
Maybe it wasn’t as clear as I thought.
Maybe in the dark, he didn’t see the plea in my eyes.
The silent choice I was trying to make.
“Ivy found me sitting in the family room this morning. I was waiting for you… Hoping to run together. Hoping for clarity. Her litany of complaints and questions was endless. Why was I being so distant? Why wouldn’t I talk about the wedding? Why wouldn’t I touch her? Why wouldn’t I share her bed? She wouldn’t let it go.”
He circles to stand before me, blocking my view of the mountains, forcing me to look at him and see the devastation in every line of his face. He pauses and steadies himself for the part that will wound us both.
“I hate hurting people, especially women. Growing up watching my father’s cruelty, I swore I’d never be the one to inflict pain. I tend to let relationships dissolve naturally and keep it cordial. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her we were done so abruptly. So I was trying to brush off her questions, but also not provoke.”
I hear the pain behind the admission. How much he carries from his childhood. How lasting that kind of trauma is. Iknowhow deep the effects run.
“Mason walked by. Smug. Gloating. And he said, ‘You know, if you guys are fighting, I’d skip right ahead to the makeup sex part.’ And I fucking snapped. The idea of him touching you. I saw him leading you up the stairs last night…”
James closes his eyes as the memory sears him. His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white, before he forces them to unclench and takes a breath.
Tentatively, he reaches out to graze my jaw with his fingertips.
“All I could think was that you chose him. That you wanted him, and I had lost you.” He’s not hiding anything—remorse, love, anguish shadow every feature. “And when she kissed me, I let it happen because I was jealous. And angry.And I wanted it to be you. You begging me, pleading with me. Needing me as much as I need you.”
His hands cradle my face. “It’s always been you.”
I hear his desperation, but Ivy’s moan rings in my ears. Any hesitation over hanging on to my anger dissipates like mist rising off the mountainside. There one moment, vanished the next.
“That’s a funny way of showing it, shoving your tongue down her throat. I don’t even know what to believe. This week was…” I bite my lip to stop myself. I can’t finish those thoughts. Because if I say it, the ice will crack and I’ll feel everything. “It doesn’t matter, James.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t shut down like this. Yell at me. Fight me. Show me something.” His eyes blaze with something beyond sorrow and grief. They burn, and he wants me to burn right back. “I know this is messy and complicated. I’m so fucking sorry about this morning.” A tear slips from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry I let my insecurities get the better of me. I’m sorry I let her kiss me. I love you. Today, tomorrow, always.”
“No, James. I’ve suffered enough disappointment for one lifetime. I can’t take any more. I can’t keep waiting for the next shoe to drop.” I force myself to meet his eyes. Steeling my expression, I will my eyes to match the coldness of my words. “Marry Ivy.”
His face falls, matching the deep, aching sorrow that mirrors my own as if he’s finally accepting that right now there’s no chance I’ll hear what he’s saying.
And I feel my heart, the one I’ve tried to wrap in ice, splitting in two.
We stand there, suspended in a war with no winners.
