Page 69 of Black Roses

“How in the hell did Cassidy have a picture of the two of us from a party that was six years ago?”

As she tells me the incredulous story, I have visions of my ex lurking outside my building, following me, followingPiper.Waves of unease and dread climb my spine. This is the same person who has been entrusted with my daughter eighty percent of the time.

I knew Cassidy was territorial, but I had no clue she had been stalking me since high school. As far as I can remember, I didn’t meet her until college. It makes sense now. Of course it was her. She’s trying to break us up. Stake her claim on me.

“Why do you think she gave you the picture, Piper?” I ask, needing her to come to the same conclusion.

She nods her head as if she knows where I’m going with this. “She threatened me with it. I think she was trying to end us,” she says. “She implied that she was going to tell you I was a slut who likes to sleep around. She said you wouldn’t want someone like that.”

I guffaw loudly. “Nothing like the pot calling the kettle black.”

I immediately regret my words and try to backpedal. “I didn’t mean you’re the kettle. I mean, you’re not a . . . Shit, Piper. What more can I say? I’m sorry.”

“I know what you meant.” A sad smile darkens her eyes. “She told me she knew what went on at those parties. She was very . . . specific. And my nightmares all started flashing before me as brutally as if she were hitting me with her fists. She saw my reaction. I couldn’t hide it. It was awful. And then I knew it. I knew the second she realized what really happened that night.”

Her whole body visibly tenses and her tongue rakes over her dry teeth before she continues. “She laughed, Mason. She actually laughed about it. What person—whatwoman—could even do that?”

My hands come up to rub my face, the heavy stubble on my neck reminding me I’ve not showered in days. In all of my twenty-two years, I’ve never wanted to physically harm a woman more than I do this very second. “A goddamn monster, that’s who.”

How could I have been such a terrible judge of character? Even back when my dick was making all of the decisions, how did I not see through her bullshit then? “Don’t you see? When she knew she wouldn’t be able to use the picture against you, she found a way to use it againstme. She’s been jealous of you since day one, Piper. She’d do anything to break us up. Apparently that includes humiliating you and accusing me of rape.”

Piper drains her cup and places it ceremoniously on the table. “It doesn’t matter. I mean, I’m glad you weren’t one of them. But you’ll never look at me the same way again. You were there. You were just outside the door. You saw me like that. You can’t un-see it, Mason.”

She stands up and I stand with her, moving closer to her. “It doesn’t matter to me, Piper. None of it. The way I feel about you—”

“It matters to me,” she interrupts. She raises her outstretched hand, meeting my chest to halt my progress towards her. The harsh movement causes me to wince at the unwelcome pain on the tender flesh over my ribs. “I’m sorry you came all the way here, Mason. But for more reasons than you know, I can’t be with you. It’s better we found out now.”

Desperation courses through my body, inexplicable sorrow flowing into my heart. “Better for whom? For you—so you can live in denial, knowing you could have had a chance at happiness? Better for me, knowing I let the love of my fucking life walk away?”

Her breath catches and her hand comes up to press against her chest.

“That’s right, Piper. I love you. I love everything about you. Even the parts you think are ugly and broken.”

She looks physically pained. Her expression is tight with anguish and she steadies herself on the chair beside her. Her head shakes slowly and her eyes fall to the ground. I can feel her take an emotional step back. “No. I can’t. I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

Her words are daggers, sending stinging blows straight to my jugular.

As she walks away from me, I call after her one last time. “You won the bet then, sweetheart. What do you want?”

Her steps falter. She turns her head but doesn’t make eye contact. “Nobody’s a winner here, Mason.”

I drop into my seat, the wind being knocked out of me as much as if I’d taken a tackle to the gut. I watch her get smaller and smaller as she walks further away, every step she takes tearing another piece of my heart out.

This woman was tailor-made for me. I’m certain of it. We were cut from the same fucking cloth. There is no way in hell I’m leaving Spain without her. But how in the world am I going to convince her when she’s as stubborn as her older sisters?

As I sit, my thoughts are spinning. I’m trying to develop a plan to make her hear me when a couple walks by, catching my eye. A woman is talking to her male companion in Spanish words I don’t understand. She stops suddenly and puts the man’s hand to her pregnant belly. Their smiles stretch from ear to ear as they exchange what appear to be words of love and excitement.

Then it dawns on me.

No, it hits me like a ton of goddamn bricks.

She said there were more reasons she couldn’t be with me. Her dad said she may never be able to be with a man who has a child. She’s standoffish with kids.

Fucking hell.

The horrific possibilities rush through me. Did she get pregnant that night and have an abortion? Or worse, did the assault render her incapable of having children?Oh, God—the comment I made to her about kicking the guys in the balls so they couldn’t have kids.

My chair tips over in my quick exit to run after her. She has to know none of that matters. If she doesn’t want kids—we won’t have them. If she does—we’ll adopt.

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