Page 88 of The Fall

“That the rage I felt at the thought of another man touching you was immature and misplaced. It never got better. It never went away, and I considered a good day to be when I fell asleep without you being the last thing on my mind. I want to tell you that when Rose answered my email and told me you fell in love and were happy that I was happy for you. That it didn’t feel like I had lost you all over again, and I didn’t resent you for it. That some part of me wasn’t hoping deep down it would all fall apart for you. But I’m a selfish man, and I wanted you to keep your promise—even though I never kept mine. I wanted New York to fit because it was supposed to, but I was never as happy as I was when we were together. And eventually, my stubborn determination to make my life work there became a daily realization that I was living the wrong life with the wrong woman.”

I listened silently as he told me about his regret.

“I won’t lie to you and tell you there weren’t times I thought it was working, that I wasn’t happy and didn’t do well—because I did. I was at times. My career took off shortly after I graduated. I got a staggering amount of offers and dived right in with the best one. When that happened, I was, for the first time, happy that I stuck with my decision to stay. But it was short-lived when my dad died. It was a slap in the face for me. I had already accomplished what I set out to do, and none of it was fulfilling enough for me to keep pretending what I was doing was enough.”

Men are such idiots.

“Dallas?”

“I’m here.”

“None of this is helping, is it?” Gravel filled his voice as I absorbed all he had told me.

“Why did you lie about still being engaged when you got here?” I shut the door to the patio and stepped inside, rummaging through the fridge.

“I don’t know.”

“Not good enough, Dean.”

“I was happy you were jealous. It’s wrong, I know, but it felt so good after wondering for so long if you still harbored any feelings for me.”

I smiled at that.

“You know I could have done without all the theatrics, Dean. You could’ve just told me the truth a long time ago.”

“You call it theatrics. I call it passionate wooing.” He chuckled.

“Don’t hide behind your Spanish roots, buddy,” I scolded.

“Necesito que me perdones por ser tan idiota, mi amor. Necesito oírte decir esas palabras. Me estás matando.” He breathed heavily.

“God, that sounded sexy,” I breathed back, suddenly hot with need for him.

His groan gave him away before he spoke his next words. “Should I come and take you away? Make love to you all night and show you just how much I’ve missed you?”

“No,” I said, opening the fridge and taking out the leftover turkey, ignoring my vagina as she waved an angry fist in the air.

“You’re still angry?” He seemed surprised, and I shook my head, slamming the Tupperware full of turkey on the counter.

“No…yes.” I paused, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. “You weren’t just my boyfriend, Dean. You were my best friend, too. You knew me better than anyone else, and you took that away from me. I needed you. You can’t take that back. Just let me figure out where to put all this.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding defeated.

“I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” he said softly.

“Goodnight, Dean.” I hung up without waiting for his response and jumped when the kitchen light flipped on.

“Grant,” I said, smiling.

“Oh, woman, you read my mind. Nothing quite as good as a leftover turkey sandwich,” he chuckled, joining me. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not. Mayo? Lettuce?”

“I’ll make my own,” he offered.

“No way. This one is on me.” I smiled as he took a seat on the bar stool behind the counter.

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