14. Mara
14
MARA
I t was too good to be true. I should have known it would never work out. He’s still in love with his dead wife, and he always will be.
My dreams of sliding into their little, two-person family and completing it were silly. I could never fill in for the woman he loves, and it was ridiculous of me to even imagine it.
Shame overwhelms my senses as I stare down at the man who just said his late wife’s name during our hot and heavy make-out session. I try, unsuccessfully, to cover myself as I reach down for my scattered clothes.
Of course, he’s still fully dressed, which makes the entire situation that much more demeaning.
“You don’t have to go,” he offers half-heartedly as I stumble in my haste to put my linen pants back on.
“Oh, I’m leaving,” I say adamantly as I yank up the zipper of my pants and snatch my ruined silk shirt off the floor. “This was obviously a colossal mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I’m sorry,” he mutters. He sounds so dejected that I almost feel bad for him.
If I wasn’t so embarrassed, I might try to comfort him, but that simply isn’t possible right now. My fight or flight response has kicked in, and I am getting the hell out of here.
As much as I don’t want to leave my little girl, I need to get away from this man. Perhaps in the light of day, a path forward will become clear. And, if not, I can always hire a lawyer.
Holding my shirt together, I quickly put on my shoes and grab my purse. I’m almost to the door when Beckett says, “Mara, please wait.”
I freeze, without turning back to face him.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He sounds almost as devastated as I feel. Still unable to turn and face him, I say, “You still love her.”
“I do,” he answers almost immediately.
Even though I’d known it was the truth, it still irrationally hurts to hear him confirm it.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he tells me.
“I know,” I whisper, unable to find my voice.
“Please don’t go.”
His voice sounds so desperate that I’m tempted to turn back. But I know that if I do, I’ll be setting myself up for a lifetime of heartbreak and always feeling like I’m second-best.
After taking a deep breath to steel my resolve, I say, “I have to. I’ll be back, though, because Embry is the only thing in the world that matters to me.”
With that, I march straight out the door, ignoring his plea to the contrary.
Once I’m locked inside my car, I allow the pent-up emotions of the past twenty-four hours to release. Desperate sobs rack my body as I cry over the man that I’ll never be able to have and the little girl that I’ll never be able to let go.