Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“OH MY GOD, NO.” SHE went to slam the door in his face but Roman’s foot was there, holding it ajar.
“I know I don’t have any right but please, Kate, give me five minutes.”
She was shaking her head though, her face now scrubbed of makeup, and the dress swapped out for a denim skirt and singlet top. No bra, and he hated that he noticed. Then again, what didn’t he notice about Kate? “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“I shouldn’t have acted like that.” The hand that gripped the door showed white at the knuckles.
“No, you shouldn’t.” She glanced away, chin trembling. “And I’m sure you feel sorry, on some level, but I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see you.”
What could he say to that? “Will five minutes really be the end of the world?”
She bit down on her lip.
“Let me come in, start a timer, and I promise, I’ll leave when you tell me to.”
But her eyes went round in her face and something like shock passed over her. “You can’t come in.”
Jealousy spiked, as he imagined all the scenarios that might confront him, like a harem of men begging for Kate to be their lover, and then he realised what was on her face.
Shame. The area of Sydney Garrett had driven him to was not exactly salubrious, and Kate didn’t want him seeing her home.
Didn’t want him judging her. His insides washed with acid.
“I don’t care about your apartment, I just want to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing you can say to fix it,” she said softly, but anguished.
So anguished. “There’s no apology that can undo it.
” She dashed at her eyes and he wanted to give in to the same emotion.
He wanted to surrender to grief and sadness, to throw himself against her and beg.
He stood stock still, not moving, trying to remember Tia’s words—that he was a fighter—to see a way through this.
“I’ll never trust you again, Roman. There’s no point.
Whatever you came to say is just…words.”
Just words. Because he’d shown her what he was like. What he really thought. He felt ill.
“Kate, please, that was—”
“No.” A harsh, quick rejection. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to do this. Please, leave.”
“I was wrong about you. I was—”
“Jealous, I get it. It doesn’t change anything. I need you to go.”
I need you to go. And didn’t she deserve to have everything she needed?
“Fuck,” he dragged a hand through his hair. “I am sorry. You’re right. It was unforgivable. I saw you and I just—something inside of me burst. I wish—I would take it back, all of it, if I could. Please, Kate…five minutes.”
He saw her wavering, her uncertainties rising, but then, the Kate he knew so well, the Kate he admired and loved came to the fore, like a phoenix from the ashes, rising from the depths of her despair to defend and protect the core of Kate.
“No,” she said with deep, desperate ferocity.
“Leave me alone, Roman. Forget where I live, forget I exist. I can’t see you again. ”
And when she went to push the door shut, he moved his foot to allow it, because the least he could do was respect her wishes.
The next morning, she woke to a letter beneath her door, and one look at the dark cursive script on the stationery from an exclusive six-star hotel showed who it was from. She contemplated throwing it out without reading it, but unfortunately, she wasn’t quite that strong.
She did however make a coffee before opening it, and lifting the back of the envelope.
Kate,
If you change your mind, you can reach me here.
Roman.
He’d included a business card with an Australian office.
She threw it in the bin rather than letting temptation dig under her skin.
Roman Hayes had the power to undo her; she refused to let him.
She’d worked too hard to make something of herself to risk her heart to a man with the power to destroy it so easily.
He told himself he’d stay away. He told himself he had to leave her, but two weeks after that godawful night, Roman was at the end of his rope.
He only wanted to see her. To know that she was okay.
And so he’d driven to her place and parked across the street, telling himself that one sight of her would be it.
At some point, he had to give this up. He knew he’d moved into some kind of weird territory. His sleep, always broken, was practically non-existent now. He was working twenty-hour days, but Kate was always there, the pulse in his bloodstream, firing through him.
He had been waiting half an hour before her door opened and Kate stepped out, and all the air in the world seemed to disappear.
He was suffocating right there, behind the steering wheel of his SUV, at the sight of her.
She wore a gold dress and a pair of strappy sandals, and it was easy to imagine her going to a Christmas party with some rich guy who wanted a woman like Kate on his arm for the night.
Jealousy was unmistakable—he’d always feel that where Kate was concerned, though.
He couldn’t help it. What he could help was his unhinged reaction.
He gripped the steering wheel, telling himself this was all he wanted; to see that she was okay.
To know that she wasn’t in pain because of him.
If he could just see her smile… he watched as she walked down the steps and looked in both directions, perhaps waiting for a car.
A frown crossed her features as she scanned her phone. He couldn’t look away.
She dialled into her phone, had a brief conversation, then disconnected the call and glanced up to the sky, as though asking for patience.
Roman was out of the car before he could question his decision, crossing the street and walking down to her, hands jabbed casually in his pockets.
But there was nothing casual about the way his heart was hammering.
At his approach, she whipped around, her features immediately arranging themselves into a mask of protective coolness. “This is borderline stalking.”
“Nothing borderline about it,” he muttered. “And believe me, I’m aware.”
She glanced away.
“Do you need something?” he asked. “You look…”
“Pissed off.”
“I was going to say perfect.”
“Don’t.” It was a plea. He closed his eyes, remembering their last conversation. How he’d hurt her. He had no right to stand there and worship her now.
“Okay,” and it was a promise. “What do you need?”
“My car cancelled.”
“So a lift?”
“I’m not getting in the car with you.”
“Because you think I’ll kidnap you?”
“Possibly.”
“I’d be lying if I said I’m not tempted,” he joked, then realised it was only barely a joke.
He could think of nothing better than just bringing her back to his hotel room for a night.
To talk. To let him apologise over and over and at least know that he was being honest. “But I’ve learned my lesson; I’ll be good. Where do you need to go?”
She hesitated. “This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.”
“I know. It’s just a lift.”
She looked at her phone again, swore, and then nodded. “There are no Ubers in the area.” She glared at him, like that was his fault. “Fine. Yes. A lift into the city would be good. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Kate. I can’t bear it.” And he crossed the street with her, careful not to touch.
At the car, he opened the front passenger door, hovering behind her in case she needed his help, but still, not touching.
She stepped up into the vehicle and slid into the seat, fastening her seatbelt before he closed the door with a soft click and strode to his own side.
They were silent for a long time. Roman, because he had no idea what to say—no idea what he had a right to say—and Kate? She probably couldn’t bear to speak to him.
But as the city drew close, and their journey almost to an end, she sighed, and murmured, “What were you doing at my place?”
God, but she smelled so good. Intoxicatingly perfect. He gripped the wheel.
“Roman?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“By spying on me?”
“I thought if I could just see you…see you smile, I don’t know.”
She clasped her hands in her lap and angled her face away, looking out of the window.
He pulled up at a light and took a moment to just stare at her, the soft curls of her blonde hair, the honey of her tan—darker now than it had been—and his gut rolled with what he’d had, and lost. What he’d been too damned stupid, and broken, to know how to keep.
To let himself have. Be honest with her.
Tell her how you feel and go from there.
“I’ve spent a long time thinking I don’t deserve to be happy.”
Kate whirled around to face him, eyes softening for the briefest moment, showing the kindness he’d come to feel from her. She covered it quickly. “Everyone deserves to be happy.”
“What happened with Grace, you know I’ve blamed myself for—”
“Don’t put this at her feet. How you spoke to me has nothing to do with Grace.”
He startled at that. It was pure Kate—her ability to call him on bullshit, to make him dig deeper. “You’re right. She’d be as mad at me as you are, as Tia is. Hell, she’d be madder.”
Kate looked away again. He was losing her. He was no good at this.
“But I do have survivor guilt. I have spent most of my adult life intentionally sabotaging every relationship except with Tia, because I would rather be alone than enjoy what Grace will never have. That’s not bullshit, Kate, that’s the truth.”
Her fingers fidgeted faster but she kept her face averted.
“And you were the biggest threat of all. You were the fairytale.”
Her fingers froze. The words hung between them. The CBD loomed ahead, shrouded in the foreground by enormous, green foliage. Christmas lights were strung from building to building, and the streetlights had big hanging posters advertising the Christmas attractions of the city.
“I was an illusion. It all was.”
“Do you really believe that?”
She was silent, and he was glad.