“But they haven’t ended that way lately. Not since we got together.”
“And you think that will continue? Or maybe you hope it will. I can understand that. But I also understand that’s not possible, not given who I am and who you are. I’m always going to be the same in-your-face Ceci Rivers. And you’re always going to be that well-mannered gentleman. You’ll hate it when I get in the middle of some commotion or brawl, and you’ll try to stop me, try to make nice with everybody, play the diplomat. And we know from past dates where that gets us. We’re just too different, Clarke. It’s like putting Tabasco in single malt scotch.”
She opened her mouth as if to say something, but realizing there was nothing more to say, turned and walked away.
Chapter Forty
Clarke
Clarke told himself he’d had to come to her hotel room. She wouldn’t return any of his calls or texts. He drew a deep breath before knocking on the door. When it swung open and Ceci saw him, she quickly made a move to shut it, but he blocked the door with his foot.
“Move your foot, Sir Stick Up His Ass!”
“No. Not until you’ve heard me out.”
“We already said everything there is to say.”
“Maybe you have, but I haven’t. Now open the door.”
“No.”
“If you don’t, I’ll push it open. And I don’t want you on the other side when I do. So, open the fucking door.”
“No.”
“I’m going to count to three and I suggest you move aside, because when I put my weight into it, this door is flying open.”
He waited. No response.
He sighed.
Fuck it.
“One … I mean it, Ceci!”
On two, Clarke lowered his shoulder, and on three, he thrust it forward and went flying into the room, falling to the ground on all fours. He blinked. Boudica was staring back at him.
“Hi, Boudica,” he said, petting the dog who wiggled his butt. “At least somebody’s happy to see me,” he muttered as he stood up and crossed his arms, glaring at Ceci.
She did the same. “You told me to open it, so I did.”
“I meant—” Waving his hand, he huffed. “Never mind. You shouldn’t have opened the door in the first place. Not without asking who it is. I could have been a serial killer. Don’t do that again.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You may think I drive like a girl, but this girl can take care of herself.”
He marched toward her. “I only said that because I knew you were angry with me. I did it to provoke you, to give you an outlet for that anger. I seem to recall it worked. You slapped me.”
“And what’s my outlet going to be this time?”
“Are you telling me you want to slap me?”
“Why are you here? I said what needed to be said at the hospital.”
“And that’s it? You and I just walk away?”
She didn’t respond.
He moved closer but stopped short of touching her. He wanted so bad to touch her. “I don’t understand why we can’t talk about this. This is one event. It doesn’t say anything about the future. Things can change. I can change.”
