Page 40 of Sinful Escape

“I haven’t even started yet.”

“Bloody hell.” Where’s a random sniper when you need one? This was why I hated one-on-one conversations. And why I usually didn’t drink too much. Once again, I considered escaping to the bathroom. But based on Roman’s eager expression, he’d probably follow me right into the cubicle.

Our drinks arrived, and I nodded at the barman. “Merci.”

Clutching the glass, I contemplated accidentally/on purpose tipping it over to create a distraction. What the hell am I doing? I never talked about William, yet I was preparing to utter details of our relationship to a man I barely knew. But if I didn’t tell him now, Roman would probably nag me for the rest of the tour. Nineteen more days trying to squirm out of his inquisition? No, thank you.

Might as well rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with.

I lowered my gaze to the dancing bubbles and hated their promise of joy. After another sip, one I hoped would numb my wavering emotions, I put my glass down and stared at a large freckle on my thumb like I was under a hypnotic trance. “I lived with William and his parents for about four years, then we moved into an apartment together. We got engaged a year later.”

“Did he cheat on you?” Roman’s voice was like a soothing melody, further enhancing my hypnotic state. “Is that what happened?”

I huffed. “I wish it was just that.” I swallowed the pain with a mouthful of champagne. Each time I thought of it, of William, the man who I’d loved with all my heart, it was like a rusty razor blade cutting tiny nicks at my heart. Returning my gaze to that freckle, I let out a slow breath and said, “William and I were together for seven years before he declared he was gay.”

“What?” Roman thumped his beer glass onto the table, and I jumped. “Shit! What . . . did he just wake up one day and decide he was gay?”

“No.” Nausea wobbled in my stomach. “Apparently, he’d known his whole life.”

“Why the hell did he stay with you then?”

Glancing at Roman, I shrugged. “Easier to pretend with me than to admit to his parents that he preferred men.”

“Oh, fuck. So, he used you.”

My heart clenched. For seven long years. But doesn’t everyone? Mother. William.

“Oh my god.” He jerked back.

I peered at him and his pointing finger. His bulging eyes had me strangling the stem of my glass. “What?”

“You still love him. Don’t you?”

Shit. Roman was a freak. I’d hate to be one of his sisters.

I exhaled a huge breath and nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

A frown crawled across his forehead. “But how can you love someone who lied to you for years?”

“He didn’t exactly lie to me.”

“Bullshit.” Roman jerked back. “He pretended to love you?—”

“He did love me, Roman.” I shoved an annoying curl from my left eye. “We loved each other.”

“But every time he had sex with you, he?—”

“We didn’t?—”

“You were engaged but weren’t having sex.” His jaw dropped.

I wanted to vomit. “We did.” Shut up, Daisy. “We did have sex, just. . . just not very often.” Oh my god. Why can’t I shut my mouth? A flush of heat attacked my neck. A cruel exhibition of my shame. I’d been stupid. Naïve. A fool.

“Didn’t that give you an idea something was wrong?”

I cleared my throat and lowered my gaze. “I thought it was me.”

“Oh, Red.” The sorrow in his voice had tears stinging my eyes. He placed his hand on my wrist. It was totally unexpected. Warm. Comforting. And delightful. “No wonder you’re so screwed up.”

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