“I only did it to protect you.”
“I did something once to protect you. I lied about who you were to protect you,” she said, reminding him of that morning on the street in San Francisco when Stevie showed up. Clay winced as she mentioned it. “And what happened? You walked away.”
“You’ve got to understand. I was trying to help you last night, Julia,” he said, his words slick with desperation.
“I know your intentions were good, but this isn’t about your intentions. It’s about your actions, because those matter more to me. I have been deceived so badly over money by men.” She grabbed his shirt collar, her eyes locking with his. “I need you, the man I love, to never deceive me. I want to be on your team, but you’ve got to play fair. I’m fine with what you did, but I am not fine with how you did it. I am not fine with those twelve hours that you had to tell me the truth. If you had time to ask me to move in with you, you certainly had the time to tell me about Charlie’s demands,” she said, as she stood up quickly, pushing away from the table.
“Please don’t go.”
“We are making a scene, and when patrons at my bar make a scene I ask them to leave, and that is what I’m doing,” she said as she walked down the street.
He kept pace alongside her. “I am sorry. That is all I can say. I f**ked up, and I’m so sorry.”
She stopped outside his building, parking her hands on her hips. “Do you know how I feel right now? Do you?”
“Terrible?” he offered up weakly.
“Stupid. Like I’m the biggest idiot in the world,” she said, erecting a wall inside her to keep the tears locked up. She had to say this. He had to know. “And it makes me feel as if everything that happened between us last night was a lie.”
“The way I feel for you is not a lie, Julia,” he pleaded, and she could hear every note of his pain. But she hurt too. “It’s the truest thing in the world.”
“Then you ought to act like that,” she said, staring sharply at him as she grabbed the handle of the door.
“So what happens next?”
“I’m leaving New York. And I’m going to go home to my house, and that’s as far as I know right now.”
“Please. Give me a chance to make this up to you,” he said, practically begging.
Once inside the elevator, she placed her hand on his chest. “I understand you want to. But I have to leave for the airport in two hours, I need to pack, and I’m hungry as hell.”
“At least let me feed you. Let me get you something to eat.”
“If only this were as simple as French fries,” she said as they stepped out onto his floor. “But you can help me pack.”
“Then I will gladly help you pack,” he said, and together they went upstairs, both like beaten-down ragdolls, listless when they should have been joyful. They didn’t speak as she gathered her lotion, shampoo and makeup from the bathroom, dropping them into a plastic bag, and layering that on top of her clothes. Maybe there was nothing more to say. The time for words had passed. This wasn’t about arguments, or trying to convince someone you were right or wrong. This was about whether she’d listen to her heart or her head, and what both had to tell her.
“So what happens, Julia?” he asked as he zipped her bag. “Are you coming back?”
She met his eyes, the sadness in hers reflected back. “I want to, but I really need to think about everything now. I need a solid week apart. No contact. To make sure I’m not making a mistake. It’s easy for you if this doesn’t work out. You’re not giving up anything. I’m changing everything.”
“And I would never take that or you for granted. I promise, I will cherish you, as I already do. Will you let me buy you a ticket to return?”
“You are free to do whatever you want, but I need to be certain that this is right for me. So I can’t promise you I’m going to use it. This has been a crazy weekend, from the game, to things ending with Charlie, to you and me. You hurt me, and I need to go home and take some time alone to make sure I’m not being foolish again, Clay.”
“You’re not,” he said, reaching for her hand, clasping it in his. Oh, how she wanted to fall into his arms. Those strong sturdy arms that had protected her, fought for her, held her. But this wasn’t about him. It was about her, and whether she could let herself turn so much of her life, and her heart, and her home, over to someone else again. “I swear.”
“You asked me to move my life across the country for you and I said yes in a heartbeat. Because I love you. And the whole time you were hiding something from me. And that something makes me feel like a fool,” she said, whispering the last words like a eulogy.
To her, it was the worst name in the world she could call herself. Because she’d been there. Oh, had she been there.
* * *
A little while later, she walked to the door, down the stairs, and to the waiting town car that would whisk her to the airport. He’d offered to ride with her but she’d declined, saying it would be too tempting, and she needed not to be tempted in that way.
He held onto that sentiment like a fragile glass globe of hope, clutching it for several minutes on the way downstairs. But then, he knew better. They’d always been good together physically. What was happening between them now was no longer about chemistry. It was about trust, and she needed to know he was a man of his word in all matters. There was no room for anything less. He had to keep all his promises to her, the big ones and the small ones. Life was rarely about the big things; it was usually about the impact—the potentially damaging impact—of the little things.
After the driver stowed her bags in the trunk, Clay reached for her, pulling her in close. She tucked her face in the crook of his neck, her br**sts pressed against his chest. He could feel her heart beating against him and he could have stayed there all day. As she broke the embrace, she cupped his cheek with one hand, a soft fingertip tracing his jaw, sending tremors like quicksilver through his body. He would miss her touch; he would miss all of her.
She stood on tiptoes, brushing her soft lips against his, lingering slowly on his mouth. The kind of kiss that stays with you for days. The kind of kiss you never forget.
Because of how it tastes.
Like goodbye.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
He clicked on the flight tracker, and watched the black arrow snake across the Midwest. He dropped his head in his hand, and looked back up minutes later, as if the computer would tell him something. As if she’d appear on some futuristic TV screen from the plane, waving, saying he was forgiven.