Page 50 of The Rules of Their Red-Hot Reunion

Pasco stared at her with haunted eyes, his face pale and drawn. That he was physically exhausted was obvious, but Aisha knew he was dancing on the edge of mental exhaustion too. And so, honestly, was she.

They kept knocking the stuffing out of each other, hurting each other, coming close to making it work, but never quite getting it right. It was time to give up, to stop trying. She couldn’t take much more Pasco-induced pain.

Or any, really.

Pasco didn’t respond to her I-can’t-do-this statement, but pain flashed in his eyes and he flinched. Thinking she needed to give him an explanation, she ploughed on, her voice high and tight.

‘This dinner seemed to be important to you and it was damn important to me, despite its awful timing. I blew off a meal with the chairman of my company’s board to rush back to Cape Town, Pasco! My dinner invitation was a big deal because Mr Lintel never socialises with the common folk. I told Miles, his daughter, that I couldn’t go, that I had a date. She understood, she’s good like that...she’s big into having a balanced life,’ Aisha explained.

Pasco flinched and she knew her verbal jab landed on target.

‘The strategy session ran over, and I had to excuse myself, something I don’t like to do, especially when I’m up for promotion. Anyway, I barely made my flight. Then it was delayed. I tried to call you, but it just rang. I couldn’t get hold of you so I rushed from the airport to the restaurant, but you weren’t there... Look, I’m sorry about your restaurant, but I’m so damn angry with you, I’m not going to lie.’

Her anger didn’t matter, she could nurse it, and her soul-deep hurt, later. She needed to get this out, get it over with and move on.

It’s self-care, Aisha, another set of boundaries. You’re protecting yourself and you’re allowed to do that.

She lifted her hands. ‘I’m done, Pasco. Done with wishing that things will change. I know they won’t.’

She closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘I am not and never will be a priority in your life. Being busy, gathering businesses and bank accounts and trust, making sure that you are nothing like your father is all that’s important to you!’

Something in his eyes, a flash of disagreement, but he didn’t speak, just kept looking at her with those intense green eyes. For the second time in her life, she was going to walk away from the only man she’d ever loved and, although she knew it was the right thing for her to do, she didn’t know if she could bear it. Spots danced in front of her vision and Aisha knew there was a good chance she’d break down completely and beg him to stay.

No... Boundaries. Self-care. Protection.

‘Do you know what I realised last night?’ she quietly asked. She echoed his body language and folded her arms against her chest, surreptitiously pinching the inside of her arm, directing her mental attention and her pain onto that spot on the tender skin.

‘What?’ he croaked.

‘In trying to be exactly the opposite of your dad, you’ve turned out to be more like him than you thought.’ Distaste flashed across his face, and she was sorry to be the one who hurt him, but he needed to hear the truth. Or the truth the way she saw it.

‘You told me that your dad made a habit of reaching for every shiny object that passed by, that he wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it, not caring who it hurt.’

Tumultuous emotions roiled through his eyes and Aisha expected him to respond, to deny her accusation, but, to her surprise, he didn’t. He just held her eyes and gestured for her to continue.

‘You reach for shiny objects too, Pasco, but yours are work and success and accolades, things to remind you that you are nothing like him. But they are still shiny and you reaching for them still hurts the people who love you, people like me. You’d rather work, intent on gathering money and things, because in doing that you can tell yourself that you’re not like him, that you are a success. But in doing that, you’re hurting the woman who loves you, the woman who’s always loved you, just like your dad hurt your mum. He lost all the money and business, you win it all, but your wives are the ones to suffer.’

Pasco was statute still, his body rigid with tension. All the colour leached from his skin and his eyes were emerald green in his haggard face.

‘Jesus! Would you say something, please?’ she half shouted, half begged.

Beg me to be yours, tell me you love me...say something to persuade me that you are worth taking a chance on!

He opened his mouth, but slammed it closed again and shook his head. He forced his shoulders up and let them fall, heavy as sin. ‘You’re right.’

Aisha glared at him. ‘That’s all you have to say?’

He shrugged again and for the first time, Aisha wanted to hurt him, to shock him into speaking, mentally screaming at him to say or do something to fight for her, to fight for them.

She waited a good twenty seconds, then another twenty, refusing to drop her eyes, to break his stare. Pasco didn’t speak.

Right, enough now.

Aisha’s voice turned hard. ‘I was weak before, Pasco, but I’m not weak any more. I don’t need you to provide a life for me, I’m not impressed by your success or your money. I have my career, my own money. I love you, I do, but I can’t be with you because I need more than you can give. I need your time. I need you to be present. I need you toseeme.’

‘Idosee you.’

His words, rough and low, came too late, and were far from convincing. ‘You don’t, Pasco, not really. You don’t see me as an equal partner, someone you’re willing to put first, someone you want to put above your need to prove to yourself that you are a better man than your father. Everybody but you knows that, by the way,’ she told him.

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