Page 89 of Better Left Unsaid

Heaven help me. I should have called into a radio talk show for advice or texted into a podcast or, better yet, shut my damn mouth.

Yeah, that would have been good. Only, I was tired of being just friends with Maria. I wanted more. We had more, and I knew that, but that wasn’t themoreI wanted from her. Sex was great and I’d love to spend the rest of my life fucking her. But what I was after was spending the rest of my lifelovingher—and not in silence. I wanted her to actually know about my feelings and return them. It didn’t have to be right this instant, but something, anything at all to know that she thought she could get there would’ve been fine with me. I wasn’t asking for too much, was I?

Bottom line:I wanted her to be mine. And it felt like she was for a second—millisecond, really—when we’d talked about being sexually exclusive. But she wasn’t. She’d never really been mine.

But I was hers.

I’d always been hers.

And I’d always be hers.

My love for her couldn’t be turned off like a leaky faucet. It ran so fucking deep I could feel it pumping through my veins. I thought about her every morning I woke up and every night when my head hit the pillow before I closed my eyes.

Okay, I just heard it. That sounded borderline stalker. It wasn’t like that, though. I swear. Said a stalker. Never mind. The point was and always would be that I wanted to talk to Maria, to make her feel better, to hold her close and tell her that I’d always be there for her, and nothing would ever change between us.

Not that it mattered. I’d freaked her out when I said what I had to say. Now we were stuck somewhere in betweenlet’s forget I’d said anything, I can swallow my feelings, and we can go back to being just friends,andI’ve always loved you, and I’ve done everything for you, to make you happy, and I want you to be my everything. And that was why I couldn’t talk to Maria, make her feel better, hold her close, and tell her I’d always be there for her, or that nothing would ever change between us—because those things were lies.

Why? Because a man could only take so much.

And this man wasn’t about lying. Even if an argument could be made that I’d already been lying by not telling her about my feelings sooner.

Not that I wanted to talk about that. My preference was to try and forget about the dull ache I felt every time I’d seen her and didn’t tell her. It was bad enough I could hardly forget about how the dull ache turned into a sharp, stabbing feeling that came to a head at the photoshoot.

Great, now I sounded like I should keep a diary.

I wasn’t doing that, for the record.

And the record should reflect that, please. I was not going to start keeping a diary.

In fact, I had to push all this shit aside right now because I had a meeting with Jeff. You know, the man-whore who was my agent. Yeah, I sure as hell wasn’t interested in showing my feelings to that guy and certainly not sharing my feelings. Honestly, I didn’t think he’d have even a sliver of solid advice, if I were looking for some.

For that kind of crap, I could’ve just called Carmine. Actually, forget calling him—I already knew what he’d say.

Good for you, Dommy boy. You finally did something for yourself. How do you feel now that you’ve found your balls? They were lost for so long you probably don’t remember how to use them. Let them lead the way to your next great fuck.

Carmine was nothing if not immensely predictable.

So no advice needed from anyone.

I was stoic. Straight-faced. A walking cardboard cutout, if you will.

When I got to Jeff’s office, I followed his receptionist who led me back.

“What’s up, Jeff? It feels like we just had a meeting. Miss me already?” I asked, no greeting necessary. I sat on his couch manspread, waiting for his response. It better have been a good one, too, because I had to drive my ass all the way to the city for it. Heaven forbid we talked on the phone.

He clacked his tongue and slapped the eraser part of his pencil on his desk multiple times until, finally, I snarled, my eyes zeroing in on the pencil. “Is it just me, or did someone piss in your cereal?” he asked.

My jaw twitched. “Not in the mood. What do you want?”

“Oh, I see. You haven’t been getting any.” He leaned back in his chair and gave me a smug look. “That’ll do it to any man. Even a good guy like you, Deluca.”

Jackass.I swore he was a damn jackass. I scrubbed a hand over my face and tried not to punch him. Okay, so maybe I was just a little on edge, but what did you expect? I’d told my best friend that I loved her, she’d responded with a one-syllable word, and now I didn’t know what to do. I was out of moves, as they said in chess. “Again, you asked me here. Tell me what you want.”

He slowly nodded his head, like he was getting it—it, as in just how little I was interested in fucking around today. “Fine, I’ll tell you.” He leaned forward and pushed a paper in front of me. “Italy is calling. I need an answer. Yes or no on the Italy deal?”

One look at the paper and I could tell it was the contract I’d need to sign.

Too bad it wasn’t as easy a decision as Jeff was making it out to be.

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