CHAPTER 42 HYPOCRITICAL KISS
HYPOCRITICAL KISS
Phoenix
“Why?” Rina asked again, as if studying for a test. She crossed one leg over the other, her movement giving away her emotion as much as the rising tone of her voice.
“Because we’re not right together. Because you can do better.” Phoenix placed the glass she’d given him onto her coffee table. He probably didn’t deserve the drink, seeing that he was breaking her heart.
“We get along great. Why do you think I can do better?”
Phoenix studied her ramrod posture and silky brown-blond hair. Rina really was very pretty. And smart. They’d enjoyed many pleasurable evenings in this compact one-bedroom apartment. He could see how they could be a good match. He tried to explain to the stoic woman before him.
“Because, Rina, I don’t love you as much as I could. You should have someone who is wild about you.”
Tears escaped the corner of her eyes, plopping onto her pressed gray suit.
“Don’t cry.” He reached out to her. She yanked her arm away, looking more furious than he’d ever seen her.
“You’re heading back to Canada soon, anyway,” he continued, thinking of the April end to her six-month assignment.
She straightened further. As he figured, latching onto logic ameliorated this actuary’s dejection. “I was going to ask you about that. I’d extend my stay if you wanted. If that’s the reason for this . . .”
She’d reached the bargaining stage of acceptance.
Seeing her pain, he wondered if he was wrong to start something that pleased but never sparked passion in him.
“When we made love, did you love me?”
He recalled that first night. He’d been so worried she’d reject him. Instead, she’d patiently allowed him to find his way. Love, though? No. He aimed for diplomatic truth.
“You made a huge difference during the hardest time in my life. You saw me as a man no matter what I had or was missing. You encouraged me to work harder, to give up my cane. You didn’t care about my injuries.
I love you for all those things and more.
But you deserve fireworks and dreams of the future, and we don’t have that. ”
As Phoenix spoke, Rina’s tears dried in salty lanes along her cheeks and clothes. She looked him in the eye. “Fireworks and dreams of the future? Maybe you didn’t have that. But I did.”
He gazed at her pretty features, puckered and drooping in a mixture of sad and angry. “Sorry.”
They sat in silence. Rina stared out the window and absently blotted a tissue under her eyes.
The memory of Orchid popped up, unbidden. Seeing her yesterday put his relationship with Rina into stark contrast. What he had with Rina wasn’t enough. What he could’ve had with Orchid couldn’t be resurrected.
Finally, Rina turned to him with renewed self-control. “Should we stay friends?”
“Sure. We could still have your birthday dinner with your co-workers.”
“Okay, see you then,” she said.
Her checklist complete, she stood and grabbed his glass. She headed to the kitchen, where he could hear her clattering ceramic and glassware in the sink. He cringed as a particularly loud crash sounded like something had broken.
Then he stood, taking one last look around. He left, feeling oddly unburdened.