Page 142 of Mr. Monroe

I exhaled the nerves away, but it seemed to increase them. It was Nat’s confused expression and my inability to articulate that made me start to pace.

“Spencer?”

“Listen, this probably isn’t the best way to say any of this, and I’m very aware of that, but I feel like I’m going to explode, or implode, or lose my fucking mind if I keep this in.”

“What’s going on? You’re pacing as if you’re about to ask me to marry you,” she laughed, and I could only nod in response because she was chilling on easy street, and I was stressed the fuck out.

“Yeah, far from that,” I said, rolling my eyes at how foolish I’d been ever to entertain the idea of using this woman as a fake wife. “Look at where all that stupid shit got us.”

Her eyes widened. “Jesus, I didn’t fly over here to be insulted by you, Spencer Monroe. If I wanted that, I would just revisit the days when you thought it was okay to hire a private investigator to go behind my back—”

“I know,” I snapped without meaning to. “I mean, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for hiring a private investigator to sniff out some dirty details on my family or for being a complete dick right now?”

“Both?” I answered with some weird, wimpy tone I was surprised I possessed.

She folded her arms and arched her eyebrow in the sexiest and sassiest way.

“I think we should both take a walk. You’re sweating, and you look like you’ll pass out.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” I said, holding out my arm to lead the way.

I wanted to kick myself. I couldn’t think of the right words, and I was scared shitless to say anything because if I did, that shitty little weak voice might pop up and say something I’d regret.

“Feeling better?” Nat said. I could see her glance over at me while I stared at the cobblestone path we took through the neatly groomed gardens.

“A bit,” I said, feeling like my nerves were quieting and my brain was re-engaging. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I didn’t come all this way just to take a walk around your family estate that your mother tried to steal,” she paused, bringing me to look at where she stopped and stared at me. “Okay, you’re still two shades of pale, so I can’t tell you the other reason either.”

“What’s the other reason?” I asked, seeing a flash of fear cross her face.

“You won’t survive it,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Trust me. If you can’t even handle apologizing to me, I know you won’t be able to handle that.”

“Nat,” I said, feeling more solid in my shoes now, “I am truly sorry. I swear to God that I never intended to hurt you in the way that I did. I understand that trying to fix your family problems, even when it was to help you and your brother, was wrong of me. I was so foolish to believe I could hire a fucking PI and go to work, trying to figure out ways to fix everything.” She went to speak, and I reached for her hand, “Please, let me get this out. I’ve had plenty of time to hate myself for doing this to you, and my mother being the reason you found out in the way you did was the icing on the worst cake ever.”

“These shoes are killing me, and I’d love to sit down,” she said with a smile that gave me hope I was going in the right direction with the apology of the century—or lifetime.

I guided Nat to one of the many stone benches lining this path. “For everything I did,” I said, as she sat, “sorry is not enough, and I understand that. It was selfish of me to behave like that. I wanted to fix things, get our relationship on a good track, and get your brother healthy so you would be happy and not stressed about him. Everything was done because my needs were not being met in the relationship.”

Her expression told me she might never forgive me for what I’d done, which was understandable. I was still struggling to forgive myself after acknowledging my true motives.

“What I learned after I hurt the person I cared about most was that I was a damn selfish fool. A fucking spoiled bastard who was used to having everything his way or no way. If I didn’t get my way, I usually cut people out of my life, believing I was punishing them by not giving them my attention anymore.”

“Um,” she said, holding up a finger, and I could hear the fight in her voice. “You didn’t cut me out of your life, Spencer. I believe I was the one who shut the door in your face on that one.”

I grinned. “That is very true. And no, I didn’t cut you out of my life; that’s what I used to do to others. I prided myself on being above everyone and fixing their problems in a way that served me best.”

“I believe most call that narcissism, and if that’s the case, there is no hope for a relationship because I will not serve a man—”

“Nat, please let me finish?”

“Go ahead,” she rolled her eyes.

“I know I have a bit of a self-serving ego. Hell, I wouldn’t be able to help run a fucking company if I didn’t. But maybe because I’m remorseful and have felt like I would die without you might mean there’s still hope for me?”

“No,” she stated firmly but with her usual feistiness. “Most women don’t buy excuses for acting like an arrogant ass, especially in the name of learning a lesson. However, in your case, Spencer Monroe, I believe you’re not entirely doomed.”

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