Page 41 of Love You Always

“I just need to get away from you so I can think.”

He stands up from the bed and walks over to me, hands drawn together like a prayer. I try not to notice how his bicepsflex when he does it. “Okay. Take the time you need. Just know that this was a one-time slip. We had some drinks…it was stupid. Purely physical. And I’ll fire her, never see her again.” His eyes plead. He bites his bottom lip, looking vulnerable.

“God, Callum. That is such utter bullshit. Did you get that out of a book of things to say after you cheat on your fiancée?”

He takes a step closer and I take a step back. “You’re the one I love. And I know you love me. We can get past this, can’t we?”

I shake my head, hating conflict but unwilling to roll over. “I don’t know. Probably not,” I admit. I don’t see how I can ever look at him the way I did before.

He nods and hangs his head. I open a drawer and grab the bras and panties I stashed there months ago. Looking around the room, I can’t think of anything else I want. Taking all this stuff is hardly the point, but I feel the need to do something, make my exit from this place feel like something to him. So rifling through his drawers is apparently the way I will do that.

But now there’s nothing left to grab and no reason to stay, so I head for the door.

“What about the adoption?” Callum’s voice echoes in the hallway behind me. I turn and my eyes blink shut.

It’s not that I’ve forgotten about it—to the contrary, it’s all I think about. But do I need Callum Haywood for that? Do I need to accept his apology so I can keep my court date in the spring, a month after our wedding?

“Just give me time to think.”

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be here. I really do love you.”

I roll my eyes as the sex stench follows me downstairs.

“Let’s face it. This relationship was a farce from the beginning. We were just a Hollywood couple, made for the tabloids. It was never going to work,” I say, mostly to avoid taking responsibility for jumping at the first guy who seemed willing to be my husband.

An almost-smile tugs at the corner of Callum’s pretty-boy face. “That mean you don’t blame me for stepping out on you?”

I fly at him and push his chest with both hands. Unfortunately, due to his beefy build, it has the effect of a fly hitting a window. “No, you imbecile. Even if we weren’t perfect, I’d expect myfiancéto be faithful. Jesus, Callum, don’t you have any morals at all?”

He shrugs. Maybe he doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

I think about what could have happened with Archer on the patio outside the wine cave. How every part of my body ached for it to happen. It sure seemed like Archer wanted it to happen. But like I told him, I’m engaged. That has to mean something, or what’s the point?

I continue throwing items into a bag, whirling around looking for who knows what in my attempt to clear my life of all things Callum.

“Am I just a fool? Am I the only one who thinks that a commitment is sacred?”

Callum, who’s been watching me with his arms crossed and a confused expression, relents. His cocky posture sags a little and his mouth turns down. “No.” He shakes his head. “You’re right. It should be sacred. I guess that’s just one of the many reasons why you’re too good for me.”

I’ve been hearing that excuse for ages, how no one can introduce me to their single guy friends because I’m “too good” for them. It just strikes me as one more way that what people see when they look at me isn’t who I am.

“I’m sick of people telling me I’m too good. I’m just…normal good.”

He extends his arms to hug me, and despite how angry and betrayed I still feel, I consider patching things over and embracing him.

Then I come to my senses. “But yeah, you’re right. I am too good for you.”

I take my things and walk out the door.

CHAPTER 20

Ella

I can’t stay here.I can’t even stay in the same city as him. So I start driving.

The problem is that I don’t know many people in the Bay Area, and as much as Tatum loves me, I don’t think she’ll appreciate me showing up at four-thirty in the morning. So I drive north, my foot on the gas and my hands on the wheel knowing what my brain hasn’t managed to process—I’m going to Napa. It’s the one place I’ve been in the area with the kind of wide-open spaces I need to think.

Not that there’s much to think about. I’m not going back to a guy who cheated on me, no matter how sorry he says he is.

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