My eyes stay locked on his. On that waiting hand. The one that seems so certain. Like this is already decided. Like I'm already his. Shit, part of me wants to make him prove it. Wants him to lose patience. To grab me, throw me over his shoulder like some caveman, and carry me back to his bed without my consent. So I can tell myself it wasn't me. That it wasn't my choice. That it just… happened. My pulse spikes at the thought. Traitor. I drag in an unsteady breath.
"If I come with you now…" My voice comes out quieter than I want it to. I clear my throat, try again. "I won't think."
His expression doesn't change. But I see it. That flicker of understanding. Or maybe recognition.
"I won't stop," I add, more honestly this time. "And I need to."
I hate how much effort this takes. How hard it is to say no when every nerve ending in my body is screaming yes.
"I need some space, Gabe," I continue, forcing the words out, even as my fingers twitch like they're considering reaching for him anyway. "Just… for tonight."
A heavy, charged silence stretches between us. His hand is still there. Waiting. He hasn't pulled it back. Hasn't forced the issue either. He's giving me the choice. Which makes this so much harder.
"Please," I add, softer now.
That does it. Something shifts in his gaze. Not disappointment. Not frustration. Something more controlled. More dangerous. Like he's filing this away. He lowers his hand slowly. The absence of it feels immediate. Cold.
"Tomorrow," he says.
Not a question. A promise. Or a warning. I'm not sure which. My heart stutters. I nod. Because tomorrow feels far enough away to deal with later. Right now, I just need distance. Before I do something I won't be able to undo. I take a step back. Then another. Creating space between us, even though I can still feel him. Like gravity hasn't quite let go. I turn before I can change my mind. Before I can step forward, instead. Before I can give in.
I turn towards the hallway and practically run to my room, feeling his hot gaze on my back the entire time. My body is screaming for him to come after me. To drag me back into his arms. And dammit, so is part of my mind. I don't slam the door, but I lean my back heavily against it the moment it's closed. Fuck.
I lean my head back; the sturdy wood is anchoring me. My heart is beating against my ribcage as if screaming,I've had enough. Let me out.
Shit. My hands reach up to my face.What have I done?
Ever so slowly, my body sinks lower, toward the ground, until my ass hits the floor. Still leaning against the door, I let the tears flow.
What have I done? What have I done? What have I done?
The words run on repeat in my brain, keeping it busy enough that the rest of the truth hits only partially, one thought at a time. I feel like I betrayed Pete, as stupid as it sounds. I was going to leave him. I would have had sex eventually. But that's just it.Eventuallyis a long way from what just happened. Here I am, having sex and… the time of my life, while he just died a horrific death. What kind of person am I?
But yet, with Gabe, I feel like I can breathe. He's seen the worst of me. Has heard the worst parts of my life, and he still seesme.
I've been playacting for the last six years of my life. Playing the role of the docile little wife and liking it. And Ididlike it. I liked it just fine until… until I got arrested.
Now, I could put all the blame for that on Annette. If she hadn't invited me to that stupid party. If I hadn't gone, yada, yada, yada. That's not it, though. That person I was pretending to be for the past six years? That wasn't me. She was a defense mechanism that stuck for longer than she should have due to unfortunate circumstances. Mom getting sick and having to live with us didn't help any. Not that I blame her. No. Not at all. This is all me. This is allonme. The night of the purse party was just a catalyst, a catalyst that could have started at any time. Deep down, I know I would have tried to break free. One way or another. I can pretend all I want that I never would have hurt Pete, and I know I would never havewantedto hurt him. But at some point… I would have. I know that. Maybe not now. Maybe not even in a year or two, but it would have happened. Maybe it would have been different if we had kids. Maybe that would have been enough adventure for me. I'm pretty sure it would have settled some of my restlessness, anyway. We didn't, though.
So, now that I can facethattruth…
I take a deep, shuddering breath. Now I have to face some others. A knock interrupts me.
"Not now, Gabe," I call.
"It's me." Mom.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and somehow manage to get on my feet to open the door. She steps in. Takes one look at me and folds me into her arms.
"Oh, sweet child. It'll all be okay."
Something breaks in me. It's been so long since Mom held me like this. Since she was the one comfortingme. I notice how fragile her little body is in my embrace, remembering that she barely weighs a hundred pounds, with clothes and shoes. But for the first time in a long time, that thought is secondary. Secondary to my misery.
She leads me to the couch by the fireplace—a freaking fireplace. In Vegas. In a guest bedroom—where we sit down, me, still enfolded in her arms.
"It will be okay, Audra. Trust me."
I let out a disbelieving snort. She pats my back. "I know you feel bad. You feel like you betrayed Pete."
