Page 91 of Married to the Frenemy

“I…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t, Haley.”

“Why? Tell me why,” I demand, tears threatening to spill over. “Tell me why you’re pushing me away. Why you pushed me away all those years ago.”

He levels me with a piercing stare filled with self-loathing. “We both know you’re better off without me.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.

“I’m the reason you could have lost custody of Maggie. Just like I’m the reason you almost died fourteen years ago. The reason you never got to go to college. The reason you lost out on so much, Haley. I’ve already caused enough damage. Already ruined your life.”

My throat tightens at the guilt I see weighing him down. “You didn’t ruin my life, Beckham. If anything, you gave me life. If I never fell off that deck, I probably would have kept doing whatever my parents told me to. Has my life always been easy? Not even close. But I wouldn’t trade the past several years for anything.”

I reach for him again, but he steps back.

“I love you, Beckham,” I whisper desperately.

He shakes his head, his expression twisted with pain and regret. “No, Haley. You don’t.”

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel. I’ve had enough of that to last one lifetime, thanks to my parents. You may not like it. May not think you deserve to be loved because of this blame you keep placing on your shoulders. But you do, Beckham. You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for. If you would just finally forgive yourself.”

He stares at me for what feels like an eternity, my confession hanging heavy between us. He parts his lips, and hope builds inside me for a brief second. Then he catches a glimpse of the scar running down the length of my thigh and his expression tightens once more.

“The state requires a married couple to be physically separated for six months before granting a divorce,” he says after a beat, his voice even. Empty. Cold. “You’ll be able to stay here until the end of October. I stopped taking bookings at my townhouse so I’ll just stay there for now.”

He turns and heads out of the house, acting as if I hadn’t just poured out my heart to him. It’s not until I hear the click of the door closing that I snap out of my stupor and go after him.

“So that’s it?” I call out just as he’s about to climb into his truck, my voice echoing against the peaceful serenity surrounding us, birds chirping and tree frogs croaking. “You’re really okay pretending you feel nothing for me? With this ending?”

He pauses and curses under his breath, but eventually faces me. “How could this end when we never even began?”

“Bullshit, Beckham. Bull. Shit. You love me. I know you do.”

His jaw ticks, but he remains silent as his stare bores into me.

“You can’t even deny it. Can you? If you really feel nothing, tell me you don’t love me. Say it and we can go back to barely acknowledging each other. But I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you feel absolutely nothing for me. Can you do that?”

His chest heaving, he eats up the distance between us and digs his fingers into my hair. I wince at the pressure but still hold his gaze steady as his eyes skate over my face. I can physically feel his indecision, his brain at war with his heart. Or perhaps his past at war with his present.

When he leans toward me, his mouth a whisper from mine, I hitch a breath, anticipation filling me.

“I. Feel. Nothing.”

His angry response shatters what little hope I somehow managed to hold on to.

Then he releases me and storms back to his truck, the tires kicking up dust as he makes his escape.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

BECKHAM

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Jude says from across a table in the corner of the brewery.

I’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes telling him all about Oliver’s surprise visit earlier in the week, as well as his proposition.

How I didn’t think twice about accepting and rescinding my offer to buy Vivanza.

How I told Haley we’d no longer have to be married.

Then how she told me those three little words that were like a dagger to my heart.

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