Page 60 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
I look at him, this man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Really look at him. How could I have been so blind? “I spent three years of my life with you. Three years. You’re telling me it was all a lie?”
“No, no, it wasn’t.” He’s desperate, grabbing my hand and imploring me with his eyes. “I loved you! I did! I do. You’re my best friend. You’re the only person I ever felt safe with.”
We stare at each other. His face is blotchy. His lashes are wet, stuck together in clumps. He looks as close to haggard as I’ve ever seen him. Haggard, hopeless, and lost.
“I don’t understand. You could’ve told me at the beginning. I would’ve supported you. You didn’t have to steal three years of my life. Because if what you’re telling me is true, that’s what you did. You stole three years of my life because you were too much of a coward to live yours. I can never get that time back. All that time and all that love I gave you . . . and you repaid it with disloyalty and public humiliation. And now you’re here to what? Ask my forgiveness?”
He starts to cry again, this time silently. Tears flow down his cheeks and drip from his jaw. “I know,” he whispers brokenly. “It’s unforgiveable, I know.”
He’s so pitiful I just don’t have it in me to hate his guts. I mean, I do hate his guts, but part of me also feels sorry for him.
Part of me remembers what a judgmental prick his father is and how nothing Brad ever did quite measured up.
A strange detachment overcomes me, as if my soul has left my body. It’s peaceful. Alarming, but peaceful. I sit there and look at him as if he were a stranger until my curiosity rears its head.
“How could you have sex with me? Did you have to imagine I had a dick so you could get it up?”
He winces. “No, I just . . .” When he swallows, hesitating, I’m not sure I want to hear. But then he blows out a breath and goes on, his voice soft. Embarrassed. “It wasn’t hard to be with you. You’re pretty. And you always smell good. And you’re a really good kisser . . .”
He’s starting to look scared. I have no idea what my face is doing, and I don’t care.
Something terrible has occurred to me.
I grab his arm. “Please tell me you used protection. All these other people you were having sex with—”
“I was always safe, I swear.”
I examine his face for any hint of deception, but he seems sincere. On the other hand, he’s so skilled at hiding the truth I’d be stupid all over again to believe him now.
I’m not sure who I’m angrier with, myself or him. I wanted the fairy tale so badly I let myself believe this frog I was kissing was really a prince.
I knew it when I read all those horrible articles about his side chicks, but I got distracted by my grief about my father. Now the reality floods back with sickening urgency: I need to get checked for STDs.
Brad might have given me something far worse than a broken heart.
I leap to my feet. Brad scrambles to his, staring at me with big horrified eyes, like a deer on the business end of a shotgun. When I point my finger at him, he shrinks back.
“Stay away from me. I don’t ever want to see your face again, do you understand?”
“Please, Kimber, listen to me—”
“I don’t ever want to hear your voice. I don’t care what you have to say. Nothing can make it better. Nothing can undo what you’ve done. Stay the hell away from me, Bradley, or so help me God I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
I swing around and stride away, my chest so tight it burns. My eyes burn, too. I think I might vomit.
Brad calls after me, “I still want to marry you!”
I stop dead in my tracks. My chest heaving with ragged breaths, I whirl around and stare at him in disbelief.
He walks closer, one careful step at a time. “You can have the life you always wanted. I’ll give you anything you want, babe, anything.”
“Are you insane?” I shout. “What the hell are you talking about? You just told me you’re gay!”
The words begin to tumble out of him in a rush. “You’re the only person I’ve told. No one else has to know! We could have it all—think about it! The house, the lifestyle, all the money!”
I know my mouth is hanging open. I can feel the breeze playing around my teeth. “You’re suggesting we pretend to be a real couple?”
He lifts his hands in a helpless gesture. “We’d be rich. And you could do whatever you wanted. You could expand your shop, travel, whatever. Think of the life we’d have. Think of the possibilities.”
