Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry about the way I left,” I say immediately. I’m even more desperate to get this out of the way now given his strained body language. Connor is tall and muscular, of course, but always carries himself like someone in a much smaller frame. I’ve never been more aware of his size before.
Well, now and when he was actually lying on top of me with his giant—
Focus, Fizzy. “I freaked out,” I say, regrouping. “You saw it, you called it. Infidelity is a hard limit for me.”
There’s only one lamp on, behind him, and it leaves his expression in shadow. “I know.”
“But I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed and taken a minute to figure out what I want to say, and it’s this: I feel awful for Natalia. But also for the anonymous woman who didn’t realize she was part of a young guy’s kamikaze mission. Who probably thought she was just having the luckiest night of her life.”
“I think about her a lot.”
My heart melts a little. “That woman was me once, and not only did it break part of my heart, but I had to reckon with being another woman’s heartbreak, too.”
He could tell me, For what it’s worth, she didn’t know I was married, but he doesn’t. And even if it’s true, I appreciate that he isn’t trying to defend himself. He just listens, absorbing this.
“I’m sorry I reacted that way,” I say.
Connor nods. “I’m really not that guy anymore. I’m nearly a decade older, Fizzy. Infidelity is a hard limit for both of us.”
“I know. I wish I hadn’t run off like that. I’m sorry I left after what we’d just done. After what we’d just said.” I take another deep breath. “I spent a lot of time by myself downstairs, thinking.”
Connor hums, an unspoken Go on, then.
“At first I was panicking,” I say, my anxiety ratcheting higher with his silence. In any other situation, even patient, measured Connor would say something to lighten the mood, to make this easier for me, but he’s being so still, like he’s bracing himself for something. “But then I let myself process what you’d said, and I realized something. About my feelings for you.”
His eyes are on the floor and I stare at his amazing face, giving myself a few beats to calm down. Getting these words out feels like fitting my whole body through a straw. I’ve never said this next part. “I’ve been fickle my whole life,” I admit. “I’ve never been someone who could close her eyes and visualize what it would be like to be with one person forever. I thought I was doing more of the same when I bolted today, but—”
“Fizzy—”
“No, let me get this out.”
“I don’t think—”
“I promise I’m not gonna be a jerk again.”
“No, no, it’s not th—”
“I realized something important tonight.”
“Fizzy, listen—”
I know how this exchange would be written in a transcript. Overlapping, it would say. The staccato of words coming out one after the other, crowding the space, drowning us in bursts of noise. I laugh, shoving past the way he doesn’t want to hear what I’m going to say.
So I blurt it out, loud enough to drown out his protest: “I’m in love with you.”
And it’s a beat before I realize my words barreled right over his: “I can’t do this.”
Everything falls nuclear-winter-level silent. The stillness in the room is absolute. And then the sound of him carefully clearing his throat feels deafening.
“Oh God,” I say, laughing awkwardly, but inside I’m shriveling up in humiliation. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
His gaze is soft but steady. “I’m sorry.”
“If this is about the show,” I quickly say, “we can go back to our original plan. We can be secret if we need to.” Desperation rises in me the longer I face this stiff, cold version of Connor. “I’m not going to let anyone get in the way of this if you’re willing to try. What I said in the hotel about being crazy about you? I meant it. I’m all in. We can sneak around. I’m very small; I can be stealthy. In fact, my high school guidance counselor gave me two career paths: romance author or secret agent.”
I expect a grin but I don’t even get a flicker of a reaction. Instead, he breaks his gaze away and turns it toward the dark fireplace. With his profile illuminated, I see how tired he looks. His chiseled cheekbones seem gaunt, and I realize that it’s because there’s no smile in his eyes.
Dread falls like a weight in my stomach. Of course. I broke this. The way I left the hotel room, the way I revealed my fickle, impulsive side… was the exact wrong way to handle Connor. I knew he was guarded, knew he entered into things only after cautious deliberation. Knew he was trusting me with something he probably hasn’t told many people, and I smashed that laboriously constructed trust with the mighty Fizzy hammer.