Page 15 of Love Me Sweet

“Were you?”

Sylvie shivered at the coldness in his tone, at the hot anger in his eyes. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him like this before. The Andrew O’Shea she knew was always so affable. An easy-going guy with a warm smile.

He wasn’t smiling now.

“Don’t you think, after all we shared, you owed me more than atext?” He spat the last word as if the taste was bitter as anise on his tongue.

“I wasn’t the woman you thought I was,” she told him. “You fell in love with someone who didn’t--doesn’t--exist.”

The fact that he’d been willing to sever relationships in his family for her sent a chill down Sylvie’s spine.

“You’re right about one thing.” Andrew leaned forward. He rested his forearms on his thighs, his gaze never leaving her face. “I don’t know you. The woman I thought I knew would never have walked away from me without an explanation.”

Anger resonated strongly in his voice but it was the hint of hurt she heard that had shame coursing through her veins like milk gone sour.

“You owe me an explanation.” Abruptly he sat back. “I’m not leaving without one.”

This was good, Sylvie reassured herself even as panic threatened. It was best they clear the air, so they could both move on. The trouble was, how much to tell?

As if he sensed her hesitation, his gaze sharpened. “The truth, Sylvie.”

Her laugh, intended to sound casual, reverberated with nerves instead. “Do you want me to put my hand on a Bible and raise my right hand?”

“Don’t be flippant.”

Sylvie didn’t feel flippant, just incredibly weary. And sad. Sad that their once bright and shiny relationship had become tarnished with guilt and recriminations.

She straightened her shoulders and drew in a steadying breath. Hadn’t she always told herself she couldn’t go wrong telling the truth? But if she told him about the conversation she’d overheard, he might be angry with his father.

No, she didn’t have to tell Andrew the whole truth, just enough so her leaving would make sense.

“You were like no man I’d ever known.”

“You haven’t known all that many.”

Sylvie flushed, realizing they were talking apples and oranges. “I wasn’t referring to intimately.”

Andrew already knew she’d been a neophyte in the sexual arena when she’d met him. One time with a seventeen-year-old boy didn’t make one an accomplished lover. In fact, when Andrew and she made love, it had felt like her first time.

“I was referring to the kind of men I’d grown up around.” Her lips curved in a slight smile, remembering the first time she’d seen him. “You dazzled me.”

He didn’t return the smile, only continued to stare intently at her face.

She licked her lips. The words that she’d hoped would smoothly flow seemed to have hit a log jam. “I-I’d never known anyone like you.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“I’d worked hard to get through high school and then through the culinary institute. I’d always been proud of my success. But when I was around you…I felt…less.”

Andrew had admired her work, but she knew he’d thought it was just a hobby. That misconception wasn’t his fault. She’d kept just how much it mattered from him. Looking back, she wasn’t sure why she’d never told him that her art--her baking—was what had sustained her during all the lonely years she’d been on her own.

His gaze sharpened. “You think I didn’t appreciate all you’d achieved?”

“Not you.” Dumping this into his lap would serve no purpose. “Forget it.”

“My family?” he pressed.

She thought of his mother and father. Though they’d been less than thrilled about their son becoming engaged to a woman outside of their social circle—and putting that ring on her finger within months of meeting her—they’d been cordial. Besides, she firmly believed nobody could make you feel inferior without your permission.

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