Chapter 23
Garrett
Rory storms past me in the hallway, double-timing it up the stairs.
I follow, because what the fuck else am I going to do?
“That wasn’t supposed to be under the tree—”
“I don’t care,” she snaps as she reaches the top of the stairs and freezes. “Fuck, I can’t even—”
She was heading to her bedroom, I realize, and that’s full of Tabitha and Allan’s shit.
I take her by the shoulders and guide her down the hall, to a little sitting area outside her parents’ bedroom.
It’s not private, exactly, but it is more comfortable than the stairs.
And I don’t think anyone is going to follow us up here, anyway.
“Roar, I’m sorry.” That’s a good place to start as I push her into the armchair.
Then I sit on the ottoman and wait for her to say something, anything.
She doesn’t. She just stares over my shoulder, a stunned, humiliated expression on her face. I feel like shit. I did this. I ruined Christmas morning.
And if there was ever an opportunity for Rory’s staged breakup, this is it. Fucking hell. It’s hard to believe that half an hour ago, I was sucking icing off her fingers and thinking about the future.
“How can I make this right?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not something to make right. It’s fine. I mean, my mom knows how your cock feels like in her hand now, so that’s probably going to be awkward forever for you, and me, but we’re all grown-ups.”
Right. Right. That’s the attitude. “Of course.”
Her face pinches in tight, her cheeks paling. As if she’s just had a painful thought. “I should have just been honest with them from the start.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“They all wanted to know why, and I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t say anything, because I don’t know what you were thinking. My mom asked if this was a mid-life crisis for you.”
“No. Jesus, it’s… That’s not it.” I scrub my hands over my face and into my hair. “That was supposed to be a private, funny gift just for you. I don’t even know how it ended up under the tree. I’d tucked it beside the couch with my backpack.”
She shrugs. “The twins carried it to my dad.”
Fuck. When I grabbed my backpack to have my shower, I would have left the gift just laying there, and to a toddler, it looked like fair game. “That’s my fault, then.”
She drags in a ragged breath. “I don’t care about fault. I’m not blaming you. I’m not even mad.”
“You’re disappointed? Word on the street is that’s even worse.”
She doesn’t laugh.
“Okay, no jokes. Now isn’t the time—”
“Why did you make it?” She lifts her gaze and frowns at me. “And when? Because this—” she wiggles the dildo between us. “This doesn’t happen overnight, right?”
I wince. “No, not overnight.”
“So what exactly is this?”
I take a deep breath. “I had it made in the summer.” I glance at the open hallway behind me and lower my voice. “After the second time we hooked up. You were conflicted about it, and I didn’t know how I felt about it, either. And I saw an ad. It felt like…”
“Like what?”
“It was the only thing you liked about me, Roar. I thought it would be cleaner if I just…gave it to you.”
“You were going to break up with me.” She sounds so indignant.
“We were already broken up. I can’t do that twice.” Except now it feels like we’re on a collision course for me to do exactly that, and I feel sick over it.
“But this was a going away present?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t call it that.”
“What would you call it?”
“A funny joke.”
“It doesn’t feel funny.” Bright tears threaten to spill from her lovely, furious eyes. She swipes at them, her fingers shaking.
I reach out and catch her hands and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I see that now. I shouldn’t have brought it. I was torn. I didn’t know when or how—”
“But you did bring it. Like two days ago, you thought you should give me that, and then I wouldn’t need you anymore? Is that right?”
When I don’t answer her, because yes, that’s right, even though it feels very, very wrong, she nods her head firmly.
“Got it. You wormed your way back into my heart—”
“Wormed?”
“—and the whole time you were going to give me this replacement dick and move on?”
“Not the whole time. That’s not how I felt this morning. Roar, I want a second chance with you.”
She stares at me, stunned. “What?”
“The last two days have changed everything. I think you feel it, too. I know we have a lot to talk about still, but I want to put the work in. I want to find a way back to being happy together.”
She looks at the dildo in her hand, then back at me. “What about the ninety-minute rule?”
“Yeah, we still seem to fight every hour and a half. But we’re pushing through it, aren’t we? I can handle you being mad at me. Anything is better than the freeze out.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because….” She cuts off a sob and shoves the stupid purple sex toy at me. “I deserve more than tolerance. I missed you when I texted you in the summer, you dummy. Not your dick. But you hate my job so much, you couldn’t even see that. You just—”
“I don’t hate your job.”
“Yes, you do.” She pushes out of the chair, her small body slipping past me.
Slipping away, again.
I catch her by the wrist and tug her back, sprawling her across my lap. “Don’t run away.”
She shoves at my chest.
I catch her wrists and hold her palms to my body. “Don’t. Run. Away.”
“I’m not running,” she protests, her eyes wild. “I’m just done.”
There’s a footstep on the stairs, and I know we have an audience. I don’t know if it’s her mother, or her sisters, or tiny children, but we’re no longer alone.
Damn it all to hell.
“I know you’re done,” I say quietly, my heart breaking. “But I also know you’re miserable and it’s not because of me.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t hate your job, Roar.” Fuck. Fuck. I take a deep breath. “You hate your job.”