Page 71 of The Billionaire's Beauty

“You can change whatever you want to change. You can try. I’m willing to try the long-distance thing. Or to try to see if I can go to school here. Maybe transfer to NYU next semester.”

This information seems to unsettle him. “You shouldn’t have to shelve your dreams to accommodate me. I’m not worth it.”

“Maybe you’re my dream.”

“Get real. You need someone who’s the relationship type. Not someone who fumbles around with it.”

“Maybe I need you,” I say, frustration making me loud. It just took a fair amount of courage for me to admit the strength of my feelings for him. I didn’t expect to receive a get real in response.

“Maybe I don’t want to see you hate me when I keep disappointing you,” he says sharply. “Maybe I need to think straight for both of us.”

“Maybe you don’t,” I say, bristling at the implication. “Maybe you need to mind your own fucking business and let me make my own decisions. Pretend I’m a grown woman who can handle herself. Give me that courtesy.”

“Courtesy?” he says, looking startled. “It’s not about courtesy—”

“You know what? You’re right. It’s about honesty. It should be, anyway. So why don’t you be honest? Get to the bottom line. Which is that you don’t care about me enough to even try to make this work.”

“Bullshit.” Anger flares in his eyes. I know it’s twisted, but this show of emotion excites me. Makes me feel as though we’re circling closer to something important. Maybe even a breakthrough. “I care enough about you to let you go off to a better life without me. Go be with your father. Go find a man who deserves you. I’m setting you free, little butterfly. I just opened your cage door. Have the good sense to fly away.”

“Oh. Is that what you’re doing?” I infuse my voice with a liberal dose of mockery, knowing it will infuriate him. “Let me run right down to the store and get a thank-you card for your efforts.”

“That’s exactly what you should do,” he says, vivid patches of red appearing across his hard cheekbones. “And when you come to your senses, you’ll thank your lucky stars that I did the right thing by you.”

I nearly choke on all his noble condescension. Ironic how I’m so eager to provoke his anger that I can’t control my own.

“Maybe I don’t consider it the right thing!” I shout, not caring how many of my neighbors I wake up with my ravings. “Maybe I don’t feel like I’m in a cage! Maybe I don’t want to fly away! Maybe I want to stay right where I am!”

“Why would you?” he roars. “Because of my charm and sparkling personality? The sex can’t be that good, sweetheart.”

“No,” I say, my palms itching to smack that sneer off his face. “Because I accidentally fell in love with you when I wasn’t looking! And, believe me, no one’s more surprised about it than I am!”

We stare at each other, both equally stunned by what I just said. A ringing silence follows. Until he scoffs.

“There’s not enough here for you to love, Bellamy.”

“Oh my God,” I cry, stricken by this hint of the low self-esteem buried beneath all that bravado and arrogance. “What are you so scared of?”

The suggestion of cowardice riles him up again.

“I’m not scared! I’m clear-eyed enough to know that love isn’t a thing. I’m smart enough to know that people don’t do what they say they’re going to do, and they sure as shit don’t change. Which means that I’ll never be who you need me to be, and you may think you want to stick around, but you’ll wind up leaving one day. I know you will.”

“You’re right about one thing,” I say. “The man I need would at least try to work things out.”

He winces, silently absorbing this the way he would a slap across the face.

“There. See?” Crooked smile. No sign of humor anywhere. “Now you’re getting smart.”

I stand there like an idiot for a second or two, stunned by his unmistakable bitterness and grim satisfaction. It’s like he’s happy that I’ve agreed with him. Happy. I wonder what unseen wounds have driven a strong and proud man like this to such a low point. It’s like he’s been cursed to this miserable existence and doesn’t understand that things could be different if only he’d meet me halfway.

And then it hits me. I knew he carried scars from his childhood. I just never dreamed I’d be able to draw a straight line from his mother walking out to this painful moment between us.

“Here’s the thing,” I say, forcing myself to keep it calm. “We’ve got some rough spots. But I think you and I are the best things that ever happened to each other.”

He blinks and hastily turns away.

“I’m not walking away without a fight, Griffin. You mean more to me than my pride. So I’m telling you that I’m willing to try the long-distance thing. Or to consider transferring to NYU law for the spring semester. All you need to do is crack your heart open a little bit more and let me in. And maybe recognize the fact that your mother’s memory is pulling the strings here—”

His head whips back around. He’s furious.

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