Page 88 of Love You Truly

“I told you the relationship with that guy is tricky. I don’t know what he wants. If you’re forming alliances with him, it all gets more complicated.”

Maybe it’s the pent-up love I’ve been feeling, but right now I’m all emotion. I love Dash and hate myself for not being able to tell him. I’m frustrated and angry and ruining the best thing that’s ever happened to me because it feels safer to burn it to the ground than to gamble on love. At least, that’s the way it feels at the moment, and I hate that too.

I inhale deeply and try to count to ten before I spew my anger all over Dash’s pretty face. I only get to three.

“Okay, first of all, I’m pretty sure he just wants to know his family because you told me that. And second, I had one conversation with him. About business.”

The iron mask of Dash’s features relaxes a tad, but I’m not done.

“Third, how dare you? I didn’t do anything behind your back. I’m meeting with growers all over the area. I’ve been doing it for months, and there’s no reason I wouldn’t include someone who’s growing exactly what I need.”

Dash stares at me, lips pressed together in a hard line. A muscle in his cheek twitches as he grits his teeth.

He’s angry? Fine. I’m angrier.

Grimacing, Dash blinks a few times and shakes his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I nod, and he reaches for me, but I take a step back. I don’t mean to do it, but my body seems to know something my brain hasn’t fully absorbed yet. Then it catches up.

That was the whole point of this fake marriage.

The words take their second lap in my brain, and they sting even more this time around.

“I think we should take a little time apart,” I say. “You’ve been through a lot with the fire and the stress of the business, and I’m trying to get myself in order. Let’s just…give ourselves some breathing room without all of this”—I gesture back and forth between us—“getting in the way.”

“This?” He mimics my movements.

“The attraction. The sex. The…love. I think it’s…confusing things, and we both need to take a little break from the intensity and remember ‘the point of this fake marriage.’ At least I do.”

A bird tweets a sweet little three-syllable sound in the distance, and it’s quickly answered by a different bird with a more complicated trill from the other direction. Ordinarily, I’d stop and take the moment to wonder at the rituals of mating and consider the cuteness.

Right now, I want to tune everything out and bury myself under a blanket in a dark room.

Dash’s mouth falls open. His jaw works for a moment as though he’s trying to produce words, but then he seems to give up.

“Time apart. Yeah, okay. I get it.” He clamps his mouth closed in a line and blinks. I never knew a person could express that much emotion in a blink, but I see hurt, anger, and betrayal in his.

“Glad it makes sense.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You probably thought the dumb pretty boy wouldn’t be able to grasp such high-level concepts, but I hear you loud and clear.”

“Dash, that’s not?—”

He cuts me off with a raised hand. “No. Don’t. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Okay,” I say quietly. “We’ll take a break.”

He nods. I nod. The only problem is that I have the feeling what little chance we had at a relationship is over now. I’m pretty sure it’s my fault. And none of it makes sense to me.

CHAPTER 33

Dash

Someone has put a tray of sandwiches on the big plank table in the old barn where my siblings and I are meeting to come up with a plan. I haven’t bothered to investigate the type of sandwich because I still have no appetite, but something smells like tuna. It makes me want to gag.

Sleeping without Mallory has resulted in not sleeping, and I’ve been in a shit mood all week. We’ve made good on our “sleeping in separate houses” freedom since our fight, and I’m still too hurt and angry to talk to her.

But mostly I’m just sad. I miss her and I fucking love her, and that makes every minute of every day depressing at best. Painful at worst.

---