Page 147 of Morally Black Betrothal
Brendan stood quickly so that the plates clattered on the table and started pacing around the room like he couldn’t bear to sit still anymore. Or maybe he just couldn’t sit next to me.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. “Fuckingfuck.”
That was when I realized things were well and truly ruined. Because while I’d been worried about falling in love with The Black Prince, he’d been freaking out about the mistake we’d made and how in God’s name he was going to deal with it when he returned.
I put the croissant down as my appetite vanished.
He strode to the bureau, then whirled around. “Simone, I can’t fake this relationship with you anymore.”
And there it was.
I stared at my shaking hands. I couldn’t actually look at him because I knew I’d cry, and that certainly wouldn’t help things with a man who said from the start he had little to no emotional depth. “I understand.”
“Do you?”
Numbly, I nodded. “Of course. We…I…we took it too far. Breached the contract or whatever. I get it.”
There was a long silence. Long enough that eventually, it became louder than anything that had already been said, stretching across the room and carving out a nasty void between us.
I kept my eyes pinned on the soft Egyptian cotton worried between my fingers. I would not look at him. I would not beg him to reconsider. I absolutely wouldnotcry in front of Brendan Black.
A hand covered mine. “Simone, please.”
Finally, I did look up to find that he had returned to his seat at the table. I blinked furiously, though tears already pricked. “Please what?”
“Please listen.” He squeezed my hand. “Angel, I said I can’t fake this relationship because…goddamn it, I want it to be real.”
At first, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him correctly.
My stomach did at least five somersaults as I waited for him to go on.
“I wake up wanting you,” he said. “I go to sleep wanting you. Do you know what time I used to come home from work most nights before you moved in?”
I shook my head.
“Nine if I was lucky. Usually closer to ten or eleven. Now I’m out the door by six because I know you’re waiting for me.” His hand lifted from mine, but only to reach over the pastries to cup my face. “I want you. Maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything. And that is really saying something.”
I flexed my hand, and we both glanced down at where the enormous diamond on my ring finger caught the morning sun again.
Brendan’s hand dropped, and he cleared his throat. “To be clear, I’m not talking about being engaged for real.”
My stomach flipped again. “Okay…”
“It’s too soon, right? Of course it’s too soon. We’ve only known each other a few months like people are saying, and even if I don’t give a fuck about their gossip, it would fuckin’ be ridiculous to commit the rest of our lives to each other when we still barely know each other. Right?”
The more he spoke, the more the South Boston emerged in his voice like a rising tide. Was he trying to convince himself that or convince me?
I didn’t point out that my parents had done just that and by all accounts, had been sinfully happy until my mom’s death. Then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted a love like that. The kind of love that would ruin you if something ever happened. Just look at my dad.
“Of course,” I agreed, ignoring the crack that seemed to have formed through the center of my chest.
“But after last night…” Brendan shoved a hand through his hair, demonstrating how it had stayed so messy through the morning. “It took me ten miles to figure out exactly what I should say to you. I’m not good at this sort of thing, angel. Feelings or whatever the fuck this is. I just want you to know that I feel something. And I’d like to pursue this. I’d like to see where it goes.”
I nodded, even more confused. He was simply ruling out forever, right? Making it clear that all he wanted was a chance at a half-normal relationship, despite the fact that it was still anything but, and what we had done together last night had also been so far from normal, it was in a separate galaxy.
He was being pragmatic. Reasonable.
So why did I feel so disappointed?
