Page 132 of On The Rocks

I whirled around to face him. “I need space. You’ve hurt my heart so badly that it aches when I breathe. Even just looking atyou makes me want to cry. I can’t be around you right now and function properly. You should’ve been honest with me from day one. The truth hurts once; you put it out there, we deal and move on. But dishonestly comes back to haunt you time and time again. It’s not the lie that’s the problem; it’s becauseyou lied.” I sank down on the edge of the bed, suddenly spent. “You said you loved me, but how am I supposed to know what’s real and what isn’t?”

His ass hit the mattress beside mine, and he took my hand in his, splaying our fingers together, and just that one small gesture made moisture fill my eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I know I’ve fucked up.”

My throat filled with emotion. I was happy Callum wasn’t making excuses. That would’ve made it even worse. Taking accountability went a long way in making it better, but nowhere near far enough.

“It’s the humiliation,” I whispered. “Everybody knew except me. How could that be, Callum? How could half the town know you married me under those conditions while I was totally clueless? I feel like a fool.”

His arm slid around my shoulders, and he pulled me into his side. “You weren’t the fool, Maeve. That was all me. I backed myself into a corner I couldn’t get out of.”

My head found the little nook that was created for me, and my heart wrenched. “I can’t believe this is happening to us.”

“I’ll go for tonight,” he agreed. “Tomorrow’s a new day.”

I froze.

“It’s just a blip,” he continued. “You just need a night to calm down, and then we can talk rationally.”

“Calm down?” I questioned. “Talk rationally?”

“Well. Yeah. It must be that red hair and your sexy Irish temper.” He snorted quietly. “And there was me thinking you were a pushover.”

“Pushover?” I questioned, my voice deceptively low.

He must’ve read my tone that time because I felt his body stiffen. “No. I meant when I first met you. I thought?—”

I shoved him away from me and jumped to my feet. “Pushover?” I screeched. “Oh my God. You’re such an asshole.”

He bent forward, elbows to knees, hung his head, and spat, “Fuck!”

Shooting him a glower, I stomped back to his dresser, grabbed shorts and socks, and tossed them into his suitcase. “You take me for granted. I married you and came here with good intentions. I thought we could try to be friends and part ways when we were ready. It was you who pushed for more. I should’ve known the joke would be on me. The joke’s always on me.”

He scraped a hand down his face before tipping his head up to address me. “I fell for you, Maeve. Whatever you think, please know I never meant to hurt you.”

I laughed dryly. “But you still did.”

“We can get through this. You just have to give me a chance.”

“Your chances are all used up,” I declared. “I told you the last time that it would be the last time. I meant it. And regardless of what you obviously think, I’m not a pushover.”

He looked up at me with misty eyes. “I don’t know how to leave you.”

My heart pulsed with a sharp ache because I understood exactly what he meant. If it was up to me, I couldn’t leave him either. It would be like ripping out my own soul. Making him go was the only way I could get through this. “Like I said. I need some space to think.”

“Then I’ll give it to you,” he murmured. “Even though being without you feels wrong on every level. I’ll give you that.”

My husband’s acquiescence made my throat close up, and I nodded silently.

Callum stood and made his way to the bathroom, eventually emerging with his hands full of toiletries. After throwing them into his case, he slowly zipped it closed and patted his pockets to check for his wallet and cell phone. “I’ll call you later,” he told me, a weird rasp to his voice.

I kept my chin up, eyes on the wall, and nodded again.

His lips hit my hair, and I had to close my eyes against the onslaught of emotions hitting me. A tear tracked down my cheek, and I silently prayed for him to go because if he didn’t, I’d break. Sending Callum away felt like I was fighting the laws of nature. We gravitated toward each other so easily and so naturally that making him leave me was going against every instinct I had.

My husband lifted his head and stepped away, and I shivered from the chill running through me. Keeping my eyes on the wall, I held my breath while he hauled up his suitcase, willing myself to hold it together. The ache in my chest was so damned intense that my ribs felt tight and constrictive, and when I finally heard the front door slam shut, exhaling was torture.

My ass hit the mattress, and I crawled up the bed, shoving my face in Callum’s pillow and sucking his clean laundry scent deep. My head was pounding, and my throat ached from the effort of holding back tears despite the fact I’d cried for most of the day.

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