“And in return, what was in it for you?”
I take a breath and look down at the mess of clothes I’ve shoved in the suitcase. The answer isn’t going to be found inside because there isn’t just one thing. There’s more than this suitcase can hold. I finally look up at him again. “You deserve answers. I just don’t think they’re going to be what you want to hear.”
We’ve crossed canyons to be together, so as we stare at each other, the divide feels greater than it ever has. I’m not a weak person, but the will to attack him or even defend myself feels fruitless when it comes to Warner. He’ll throw out facts that will counteract my truth, no matter how valid it is.
He turns his back to me and scrubs his hand over his face, walking away. I watch as the jacket slides off his shoulders, and he tosses it on the bed. He doesn’t move or say anything. He doesn’t even look at me as if the sight is as problematic as the secrets we keep. “We’ll never know with you evading the answers.” He turns to shoot his gaze at me. “But I deserve to hear the truth after the nonsense you’ve put me through. This speaks volumes about what you really think about me as a person.”
“How I think of you as a person is why I’m not bothering. Not because I think you’re bad or evil. I know you’re not. I also know that nothing I say will make a difference to you.” I grab a shirt and squash it into the suitcase before reaching for another and repeating the process.
“How about this?” He sounds so reasonable that I’m worried about being hit with what he says next. “I’ll do the talking, and you can chime in if I get something wrong in this story of yours.” One glance out the window, and he takes a breath before facing me again. “Jimmy was right. Fuck.” Shaking his head, he’s not amused, though his tone leans toward it for a split second. “That’s not something I can say very often.”
He looks down as if disappointment has taken over. When his eyes strike mine, the pain he’s carrying is drawn through the lines of his face. “You could have been the one to tell me that you were at my office and we knew each other before the accident, but you didn’t. You made up this fable in your head that we were married. Do you know how horrible and confused that made me feel when I was dealing with my injuries?”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not fucking good enough anymore, Delaney!” he shouts. “Your sorry doesn’t fix the damage you’ve done. It doesn’t turn the lies you’ve told into the truth. You’re nothing more than a liar and an opportunist. Get your shit and get out of my penthouse.”
He rips the bow tie from around his neck and throws it on the floor before he storms out of the bedroom. “That’s bullshit, Warner, and you know it.” I get to my feet and follow his footsteps into the living room. He can call me a liar. That’s the truth. I’ve lied so much that I’ve let it overtake my entire personality for him. “Don’t call me an opportunist when you know it’s not true.”
“Oh yeah? How do I know that? You asked me for five fucking million dollars like I would hand it over and not even miss it.”
“You wouldn’t miss it!” I shout right back, matching him in volume and upset. I slap my hands onto the island countertop, leaning over like my words won’t reach him on the other side if I don’t. “That’s just it. Money is meaningless to you because you have so much of it. That’s why you’re wretched at work and miserable at home. You have more than you could ever need, and sadly, it’s all you have to keep you warm at night.”
“So let me get this straight.” I hate the condescension in his tone, but it’s the lack of emotion in his eyes that hurts the most. “In your teeny-tiny worldview, I deserve to be fucked over because I have money? Got it!”
I have to take a breath after hearing that. My teeny-tiny worldview? He thinks so little of me. He’s upset. I am too. We’re bound to say things that cross a line or two. The art of fighting isn’t determined by the winner but by what is said that leaves the most damage. I’ve never operated by those rules, but I can’t say the same for the both of us. He wants the win more than I do. “No. You deserve to be happy. You just won’t allow yourself to be.”
“I did. I was overlooking your lies and gaslighting myself into loving you.”
I hope the first stab hurts the worst because I have a feeling there are more where that came from. “Lies. Lies. Lies. God,” I reply, throwing my arms up from my sides. “That’s all you’ve got on me?—”
“Well, there’s a lot to unpack on that topic.” His brow is cocked, and the arrogance I saw oozing from his pores the first time we met sits on his smug jerk face. “If the shoe fits?—”
“Screw you.” I turn around and storm back to the closet to get “my shit,” as he calls it, but stop and turn back once more. “Once I’m gone, your money can get you off instead.”
“I knew it was an act,” he says as if he has nothing to lose. “You never fucking cared?—”
“I cared!” I come racing back, pointing right at him. “I cared about you when no one else did.” My breathing is as harsh as my words. I hate myself for putting those out into the universe, and for saying the words I never should have, no matter how much I was pushed. The momentum I carried deflates, making me feel empty inside. “I cared, Warner. You’re getting what you want, though. You can finally be miserable without me.” I walk toward the bedroom, the rush in my veins losing speed with every step I take away from him.
Dropping to the floor, I just grab a pile of clothes in my shaky hands, shove them inside the case, and try to close it. It won’t. I sniffle, desperately trying to leave before the tears in my eyes fall, so I switch my attention to the shoes and load them into the duffel bag. Why is he like this? Why can we not talk like we usually do? Why did he turn on me so quickly?
He has valid reasons, but what’s my excuse? I fell for him and lost sight of my purpose for being here in the first place.
“I always knew the truth would come out,” he says, back in the doorway with his sleeve rolled up on his forearm and the top two buttons of his shirt loosened from the holes. His hair falls over his forehead like it’s been overworked in frustration. Those blue eyes still hold so much warmth when he looks at me despite the chill of his words. I shouldn’t notice such things under the circumstances, but even when he challenges or assumes the worst about me, he’s stillattractive. It’s his insides that need work.
“I didn’t know how bad it had gotten until this point. And it’s so much worse than I imagined.” He shakes his head to scold me silently, and his anger begins to grow again as if it’s been watered. “You lied to get my money. When I didn’t fall for your act, you came out and asked for it.”
I’m too tired to go in the circles he wants to travel, too hurt to think clearly enough for a good comeback. I finally look up at him and say, “You missed a detail. When I was falling for you, I stopped caring about the one thing that brought me into your life.”
“Which was?”
“My family.” My chin quivering in his presence taps a source of embarrassment that makes me regret engaging.Get your stuff, Delaney, and get out, like the man wants.
“I didn’t even know your family existed before I met you?—”
“That’s the problem.” Why does he have to make this so difficult? I grab another shirt and lower it to my lap. Pushed too far this time, I finally snap, losing any inhibition I had been restraining. “You think you’re better than me. You always did. Living in this high tower, only to leave each morning to go work in another, reeks of “let them eat cake.” But the people who live beneath you, the ones too busy working, barely have time to look up before you crush them under your expensive designer shoes. Guess what, Warner? I’m one of them. My family will suffer at your hand, and you’ll never be forgiven.”
He rolls his head back, then levels me with a glare. “Forgiveness?” His laugh holds nothing of the man I thought he was. He’s become unrecognizable, worse than the man I met in the elevator of Landers Ventures. “Business is business, sweetheart,” he says with less venom than before.
