He’d lost Rebecca. Nothing could fix that. No pills. No casts. No beer.
But he could definitely give the beer a shot.
He’d barely flinched when he lost Jane. He’d had a hard time adjusting when he lost his job and his house, but he’d managed. But this? This ripped through him like a dagger. Losing Rebecca was like losing his purpose in life.
He was being ridiculous. He knew it, but it didn’t stop him from feeling so bereft. He’d been fine on his own before. It had never bothered him, but now the empty apartment seemed to swallow him whole, too quiet without her warm presence nearby.
How could one woman change his life so much in just a few short weeks?
And how could he have lost it all so easily?
He picked up the beer in his good hand and gulped it down. Tossing the empty bottle on the table, he stood and stalked into the kitchen. He needed another drink. Or twenty.
He stopped at the fridge and just stared. Right here. Right here, he’d pushed her up against the counter and almost had his way with her. She’d clung to him so sweetly while he’d kissed her, exploring the luscious heat of her mouth. A heat he’d had no right to ever feel. He could almost smell the scent of her hair now, if he strained hard enough. As if she’d imprinted on his senses for eternity.
Cursing, he kicked the cabinet. While the scuff on the finish was somewhat satisfying, it did nothing to ease his frustration. He muttered, yanked the fridge open, and retrieved another beer. Now where was that f**king bottle opener? He growled and yanked the drawer open hard enough to knock it off the tracks.
“Perhaps,” Rebecca said at his back, “you shouldn’t be breaking shit in an apartment you don’t own.”
Tony tensed, dropped the beer on the counter, spun, and stared. Was he imagining this? How had she even gotten in here? Oh. Right. He’d been moping so much he’d forgotten to lock the door. No—he was making excuses. Wanting to believe that was really her, looking at him with that sardonic half-smile and all that glorious hair tumbling around her.
“Rebecca.” He drew in a shaky breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I did kind of leave my stuff here.”
Oh. She’d only come back for her belongings. He still remembered how angry he’d been when she showed up on his door with those three duffel bags. Now, he couldn’t stand the thought of her packing them up and walking away.
“Wait,” he said. “Before you walk out, please, just…listen. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I did to you. The lies—” He hated the lump in his throat, but it just wouldn’t quit. “I never meant to hurt you, or use you.”
“Tony…” She knotted her hands together. “I’m sorry, too. I said horrible things, and I didn’t mean them.” Her eyes lingered on his injured arm. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” No, he wasn’t fine. Why wasn’t she angry with him?
Right. Real angels didn’t get angry, and she’d earned her wings.
His breaths choked, and he turned away. “Congratulations.”
“On what?”
Damn it, was she going to make him say it? He clenched his fingers against the edge of the counter. “On earning your wings.” He took a ragged breath. “I guess you did a good job. You made me realize what a bastard I am. I’ve never had any consideration for anyone else. I thought if I could convince you to choose me, we could live happily ever after.” He stared at the beer. It no longer seemed so appealing. “But it was never what you wanted. You were always clear about that. Now you got what you wanted, and I…I’m happy for you. I really am.”
“I understand.”
Just that. Nothing else. He raised his head and risked a glance over his shoulder. She watched him with warm eyes, that damnable smile still there. That smile that made him want to kiss her so much it tore him apart.
“Understand what?”
“I understand why you did what you did. You were trying to protect me. Trying to take care of me. I should have thanked you. Instead I misjudged your intentions and attacked you.” Her smile turned self-mocking. “I always have had a problem with my temper.”
“Well, not anymore, right?” The words felt bitter, but he couldn’t stop them. “You’re an angel now. Perfect and sweet.”
“No. I’m not.” Rebecca’s eyes dropped from his. She ran a hand through her hair in a gesture that was so like him he almost laughed. “I’m not perfect. I’m not sweet. I’m flawed, I’m difficult, I’m rash, I’m impulsive, I’m foulmouthed, I’m…I’m a lot of things. But I’m not an angel.”
Tony frowned. He made himself turn to face her again, even if the sight of her, with her eyes downcast and her cheeks pink, made him want to take her into his arms again. “Rebecca?”
She wet her lips with the darting red tip of her tongue. “Did you mean it?” she asked softly.
“Did I mean what?”
“That you loved me. Did you mean it?” She sounded so shy. So young. So afraid, and he didn’t know what he could do to ease that hurt. “Or were you just saying it to make me feel better?”
“Does it matter?” Why was she prying this out of him now? Was she still trying to pass some kind of final judgment on his soul?
But she kept her eyes lowered, and he couldn’t read her expression. “It matters.”
“Why?”
“Answer me first. Please.”
He tried not to hope. Tried not to need, when she could take his heart and crumble it so easily. But he couldn’t lie, either. “I meant every word. I don’t know how it happened, but I fell in love with you, and now I can’t picture life without you. I love you, Rebecca.”
Rebecca drew in her breath. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Really?”
“Really.”
Her big blue eyes rose to his. That was the only warning before suddenly she was pressed so close against him, her soft scent stealing over him, her warm arms wrapped around his neck. He stumbled, but slid his good arm around her, holding her close and breathing in deep draughts of that perfect smell that was so her.
“Rebecca…?” His heart was in knots, his stomach fluttering.
“Shut up. Shut up. I love you, shut up, I love you.” She let out a choked little laugh and buried her face against his neck, and that was when he understood.
She wasn’t an angel.