Chapter 28
Delaney
Warner’s voice echoes down the hardwoods of the hall before damping at the entrance to the bedroom.
Kneeling next to my suitcase in the closet, I lower the clothes I have in my arms and wait to see what happens next.
Will he allow me to collect my belongings and leave in peace, or do the dirty details of what I’ve done need to be revealed to satisfy his burning curiosity?
Either way, I’m praying I can hold on to a smidgen of the dignity I have left, which is wrapped up in my family, and walk out with my heart intact.
I know that’s an impossible task, but I have nothing left of myself to sacrifice.
I played the hand I was dealt. I’ve been such a fool for believing that somehow I could win this round—save the restaurant, and my family’s home, and get Warner.
Why’d I go and fall in love with the jerk?
Squeezing my eyes closed, I drop my head, knowing there’s no going back or fixing this.
What could I possibly say that could salvage what we had together?
I got caught up? The ends justified the means?
I didn’t expect to fall for you. Those wouldn’t be lies like the ones I told before. But would he even believe me anymore?
The worst part is knowing this is how we end. Not by our own admissions since we’d gotten so good at lying to ourselves, but by some sideswipe when we least expected it. That’s karma. And we’ll pay the price. I just hope I can take the brunt of it since he never deserved any of this.
Warner fills the doorway to the closet, a mass of man and muscle taking up space like he owns the place .
. . Guess he does, technically. I’m the intruder.
From the beginning, I’m the one who broke into his life and stole parts of his identity to selfishly benefit my own and my family.
Hell is paved with good intentions for a reason. “Were you not going to answer me?”
“What could I possibly say? Anything I say will sound so off the wall that the truth couldn’t win this battle. So my not responding was the answer.”
“Just tell me what you wanted from me. You owe me that much.”
“I owe you nothing.” But that’s not entirely true. I wanted something that I should have known he’d never be able to give. “I wanted your heart, but I’ve been denied twice.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dammit.
Make sense, Delaney.” My gaze already left his, but I can still feel the heat of his stare.
“You’re leaving? Just like that? No courtesy of an argument, or giving me the option to hear your side of the story?
You’re going to slink out of Tribeca like you did the reception?
Like . . . Like a thief in the night, which probably isn’t far from the truth. How mature of you.”
“Maturity wasn’t something I was concerned with.
I had my reasons.” I didn’t know those reasons would hurt him when I was only trying to protect my family.
But I should have. I tempted fate by messing with his emotions.
I can’t feign innocence over that aspect.
But where did it all go so wrong? My life has been spiraling out of control ever since I got into that ambulance.
“You owe me the truth, Delaney.” He stabs his chest with a plea that causes my stomach to twist in knots.
“Do you know how many times I’ve tried to tell you?
But the truth wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted a wife, and I was here giving you just that.
” My words come out softer than I intended, my spirit not able to rouse to the fight.
I don’t want to hurt him, even now when I’m under the spotlight to be interrogated.
“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?