Page 97 of When We Were Us
“Done. Go ahead.” I pick up the phone and toss it in his lap. I don’t expect he’ll actually do it, but the sentiment gives me satisfaction, knowing he’d do that for me. “What else?”
His gray eyes meet mine and he’s quiet when he says, “I hope you know all that shit he said to you isn’t true.”
“I do.”
He cuts a glance my way. “Was he always this big of a jackass?”
“No,” I say nonchalantly. “Not overtly. I mean, now that I think back, maybe sometimes? He never called me names or anything like…like he did in those texts. Never hit me or anything.”
“That’s the bar?Jesus.He never hit you or called you names, so he’s not an asshole?”
He hits me with that signature scowl and, in this context, it’s sexy as hell.
“He just kind of expected me to do certain things, be a certain way, you know? I never really thought about it before, but he used to tell me not to wear my hair up because ‘it looked better down’. Or this one time, he told me I laugh too loud, and I should tone it down. Just a few things like that. He alsohatedmy red shoes.”
He raises his eyebrows like that’s the most asinine thing in the world, but he doesn’t say anything. So, I continue.
“When he proposed, I just automatically agreed. I didn’t even think about it, didn’t question it. I don’t even think I said yes, come to think of it. I think I said ‘Ok,’ like I was saying yes to an invitation to grab a burger after work or drinks with friends. He didn’t make a big deal out of it or do anything romantic. He just asked me if I wanted to get married one night while I was taking off my makeup and he was brushing his teeth. It took me by surprise, actually, because we’d never talked about it before. I guess it just seemed like the logical next step.”
I laugh now, a humorless laugh with a too-dry throat. “He didn’t even kiss me after—no hug, nothing. He just said ‘Ok, we’ll set something up,’ like it was a business meeting. Then, he rinsed his mouth and left the bathroom. When I finished getting ready for bed, he was already asleep. It’s actually pretty sad now that I say it out loud. And to be completely honest, I don’t even know why he asked me. Six months later, and we didn’t even have a date.”
“Forget being an asshole, this guy is a fucking moron.”
I look at him and chuckle because he’s right; Derek is a moron.
He stares back at me with an intense gaze, his eyes never leaving mine. “I hate that he made you feel like you had to be anything other than exactly who you are, Wren. He’s a complete tool. If he can’t see how great you are, then it’s his loss.”
The intensity in his eyes and the tenderness in his voice is too much and I have to look away, but I nod. “Thank you, Hank.”
We sit in broken silence with nothing but Lieutenant Kaffee berating Colonel Jessup on the stand.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I take my phone from him when he hands it back to me. “I do know that we can’t possibly work together after all this. We have the condo together, but I don’t want that, either.”
“What about the two of you?” His expression is unreadable, but I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves. “Sounds like he might want you to come home.”
“It’s not even a question. I could never trust him again. Wouldn’t even want to try.”
He stares at me for a long minute, his normally light eyes dark and searching.
“Do you still love him?”
“No.”
“No?” His gaze is doubtful, his brows pulling down.
I swallow. “I don’t think I really ever did. I know it sounds unlikely—the fact that I would get engaged to someone I didn’t love—but it’s the truth. Even when we went to pick out rings, I wasn’t excited. I didn’t swoon over carat size or princess cut versus oval.”
I’d had such a horrible example in my parents, seeing how badly someone who claimed to love the other could inflict so much pain. And once I understood it, I didn’t want that for myself. It was one of the major reasons Hank and I had been in a different place back then.
In my mind, it was better to hurt him by leaving before we got too close. Before we were tied to one another legally. It had hurt me then, and it hurts me now, thinking about it. It’s why I want so badly to tell Hank how I feel now—how I truly feel abouthim. But I won’t taint that moment by doing it when we’re talking about Derek.
He nods and pulls at the back of his neck with his big palm, then looks over at me. His eyes drop to my lap, and he reaches out to take one of my hands in his. Bringing my knuckles to his lips, he brushes them softly with a kiss. A shiver runs through me at the contact.
“You deserve so much more than a shitty bathroom proposal, Wren. So much more than this guy could ever hope to give you.”
I want to crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around him. I want to kiss him and tell him how safe I feel with him, and how grateful I am to him for listening and being here for me. Instead, I settle for squeezing his hand in mine. Things are so good with him right now, and slow seems best. At least until we’ve defined what we are to each other, and now doesn’t feel like the time.
