Chapter Twenty-Two
“I’d give it all up for you, right this minute,” Bryan murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind Phoebe’s ear before sliding his hand around to the back of her head. “None of it matters without you.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. It was almost too much to believe. Was this a dream? She’d imagined this moment so many times after all. Odds were, she was asleep.
“What are you doing?” he asked, laughing gently when she squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them wide.
She did it again instead of answering right away, but the result was the same. “This is how I wake myself up from a dream when I know I’m dreaming,” she explained with a sheepish smile.
“You think this is a dream?” he asked.
“I hope it isn’t—but if it is, it’s the best dream I’ve ever had. It’s a miracle.”
“No. You’re the miracle,” he whispered, pulling her in. “I’m only the lucky guy who gets to have you in his life. I know I don’t deserve you. But I’ll spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to earn you, Phoebe. So long as you’ll let me.”
“I’ll let you,” she promised, throwing her arms around his neck a moment before the tears started flowing. “Always. I love you so much.”
“And I love you.” He smiled before brushing his lips against hers in the softest, sweetest kiss, one more tender than he’d ever given her before.
But that didn’t last long because he was soon devouring her mouth, plunging his tongue inside and plundering her, hungry and determined to claim her once and for all.
And she wanted him to. Needed him to. He guided her to the desk, and she leaned against it. She was already halfway to unbuttoning his shirt by the time he worked the skirt up over her hips. She had to have him, all of him, had to lose herself in him while he did the same with her.
I have to take a break, pushing away from the laptop with tears in my eyes. Phoebe’s supposed to be the one crying, not me.
She’s also supposed to be finding the love of her life and preparing for a hot, raunchy but ultimately tender and loving sex session on her boss/boyfriend’s desk. That’s most certainly not my situation.
I wish I could stop thinking about Blake, imagining him as being the one loving me—or rather, Phoebe.
It’s all too messy. I should never have started this.
Now that things have fallen apart and it’s obvious that Blake could never be anybody’s boyfriend until he gets his business worked out. This was a terrible idea.
If I had a little closure with him, that would be one thing. But ten days of radio silence on his end after I’ve texted and even left voice mails, the message has finally come through.
He’s done with me. I guess that’s for the best.
And if I don’t get this book over to Maggie in the next week, at the very most, she’ll be done with me too. Nothing like a whole lot of pressure to make the creative juices dry up until they’re nonexistent, right?
The sudden knock at the door as I’m coming back from washing my tearstained face makes me jump. It could only be Matt. People don’t normally visit out of nowhere. Even Hayley knows better than to do that.
It’s only when the aroma of steak and onions reaches my nose before I’ve opened the door that I realize there’s one person who doesn’t know better. And even if he did, he wouldn’t care. I mean, he flew me to his mother’s house without clearing with me whether or not I actually wanted to go.
Showing up at my apartment unannounced is, like, nothing compared to that.
Blake looks like a million bucks, as always, wearing one of his tailored suits. Meanwhile, I haven’t washed my hair in three days.
My greasy hair isn’t nearly as interesting as the greasy paper bag that Blake holds up for my inspection, however. I mean, the entire hall smells like a sandwich shop. A delicious, mouthwatering sandwich shop.
“I don’t know who to say hello to first,” I admit while wishing like heck I were wearing something better suited for a moment like this. Something a little nicer than a sweatshirt and yoga pants from this morning’s workout.
What can I say? I’m proud that I even managed to get a workout in. Showering and getting dressed afterward was beyond the realm of my powers.
“The sandwiches, of course.” Blake smirks. “I flew them straight in from Philly just a little while ago, packed in one of those foil-lined bags that keeps the heat in.”
“You could’ve saved a lot of trouble, you know. A simple phone call would’ve done the trick.” But I step aside anyway. “Come on in. Sorry for the mess. I’m on a deadline.”
He sighs as he steps inside. “I can’t seem to get it right with you, can I?”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad—but maybe, just maybe, call a girl when she’s trying to get in touch with you, so she doesn’t think you died.” We go to the kitchen, where he lays the sandwiches on the counter. “Can I get you something to drink?”
What are we doing? I feel like we’re playing parts in a script, like we’re saying words and going through motions that don’t fit the situation.
“Water, please. I’m dehydrated from the flight.”
“Let me guess. You’ve been on the road all week?”
“Actually, yes.” He shrugs, accepting a bottle of water from the fridge. “Philly was a pitstop on the way up from Atlanta.”
“Do you ever stop?”
“Not really.” He unwraps one long sandwich and then the other. “I should’ve asked if you were hungry.”
“Even if I wasn’t, I’d climb over your dead body to get my hands on this,” I confess. “Don’t forget. I’m on a deadline. Things like eating tend to fall by the wayside.”
And, oh boy, is it a good sandwich. Rich, meaty, cheesy, speckled with sweet caramelized onions and fried mushrooms. I could just about melt into the floor. “My gosh,” I manage to say before taking another bite.
“Not quite the same as having one on-site, but I figured a little extra time wouldn’t make that much of a difference.” He takes a bite, groaning. “I was right.”
“You were right.”
We exchange a long look, food forgotten for a moment.
“But just about the sandwiches though,” he murmurs before wiping his mouth on a napkin. “I was wrong about a lot of things. I was wrong, period. I’m wrong.”
“You’re not wrong,” I whisper, shaking my head.
He’s sitting on the other side of the counter, facing me, but we might as well be a million miles from each other. That granite countertop is a cavern between us.
His dark eyes are dull, without that spark of light I first noticed in them when we met.
“What’s the problem then? Why can’t I get it right?
I’ve found a beautiful, amazing girl who makes me laugh and drives me crazy, but I can’t make it work with you.
I’ve never wanted to make it work so much.
Not ever. But it seems like I’m not cut out for life with a perfect woman. ”
“I’m not perfect.”
“You are, for me—at least, on paper.” He takes another bite, though this one doesn’t have the gusto the first bite did.
I wait as he chews and sense he’s stalling for time, trying to get his thoughts together.
I finally jump in because it’s breaking my heart to hear him talk this way.
“You’re not wrong. You’re the best, really.
I would love to make this work too. But the life you lead doesn’t mesh with a relationship.
Not because you aren’t cut out for it, but because you have to make a few changes.
Not that ambition is bad. It’s great. You’ve done incredible things. ”
“What difference does it make if I can’t have the person I want?”
I have to duck my head to hide the tears threatening to flow. It’s my turn to take a huge bite, just to have the excuse to stop talking for a while.
He fills in the silence for me. “I know I have a lot of work to do. I guess I should thank you for that. I wouldn’t have thought about it until you put it right in front of my face. I need big gestures like that before something gets through my thick skull.”
“I had a feeling.” I snicker. “I mean, you’re the guy who flew me out to meet his mom with no warning whatsoever.”
“I’ll never live that one down.”
“Nor should you.” I point to his steak. “Eat. You look worn out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So, have you found a new assistant yet?” I ask. I have to. I can’t help it. That little brat yelled at me—or practically.
He nods. “Yeah, there are two of them actually. At the suggestion of a few colleagues.”
“Get out. Two assistants?”
“Yep. They work together, handling different parts of my schedule. It was unfair to put all of that on one person for so long. Now, I might work a little more efficiently.” He winks. “Progress. One step at a time.”
“I’m proud of you.” And I am.
I only wish those steps had happened a long time ago. He might have been ready for me by now if that were the case.
No. That’s not right. Everything happens for a reason, and there’s a reason things worked out the way they did. He didn’t fail. Neither did I. It’s just not right for us.
I don’t have to like it, but that’s the truth.
We make small talk for a while after that. He compliments the apartment and admires the view of the park while I scan the rooms for hints of anything too embarrassing.
Before long though, it’s time for him to go. I want so much for him to stay, and I sense he wants the same thing. But that would be a mistake.
Instead of inviting him to bed, I walk him to the door, and we kiss just once more before hugging. It’s a nice kiss, gentle, and we both taste like steak and onions, so it’s not terribly romantic or sexy.
Probably for the best, all things considered.
“Thank you for everything,” I whisper, standing on my tiptoes so I can reach his ear. “Thank you so much.”
“Thank you, Kathryn Antoinette,” he whispers back, squeezing tight. “You’ve given me a lot more than I gave you. If you could give me one more thing …”
I lean back, looking up into his eyes. “What’s that?”
A smile plays over his mouth, making his lips twitch. “Please, make sure my character is well hung. Nobody else will know he’s a stand-in for me, but I will.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say, already knowing he will be.