New York, Actually

by Sarah Morgan

  “Everyone knows a sugar rush is the perfect cure for tension,” was all she’d said when Mark had made a comment about the threat to their arteries.

  Eventually, in the small hours of the morning, the only person left was Daniel.

  Molly tidied the cushions, stacked the empty pizza boxes in the kitchen and cleared what felt like a hundred dirty mugs. She should have felt stressed, but instead she felt warmed, as if she’d been wrapped in layers of soft blankets. That was what friends did. They acted as an insulator. A layer between a person and the cold, hard world.

  She realized that Daniel was watching her. He stood, legs braced and arms folded, the stance pulling the fabric of his shirt tight across his muscle-packed shoulders. His jaw was dark with stubble and his eyes were tired. He’d been here all day and still showed no signs of leaving. She sensed there was something he wanted to say to her and was waiting for the right moment.

  There were things she needed to say to him, too, but right now she didn’t have the energy for another emotional conversation. “You should go. You’ve already done more than enough and I’m grateful. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

  “You think I’m here because I feel guilty?”

  What other reason could there be? “You must be exhausted.”

  “I’m not leaving. If I’m tired I’ll sleep on your sofa.”

  “You hate my sofa.”

  “True. There’s always the bed.”

  He was talking as if nothing had changed. As if their entire relationship hadn’t been shaken up in the past twenty-four hours. If she let him back into her bed, what would that mean? “I don’t think that’s a great idea. Not that the sex isn’t good—”

  She saw the sudden flare of heat in his eyes and knew it was mirrored in hers. She’d been trying not to think about that side of things, but of course now she’d said it aloud she could think of nothing else.

  A muscle flickered in his jaw. “Sex isn’t why I’m here either.”

  She was missing something.

  Obviously she was missing something.

  She searched for the answer in his face, but found nothing. Long lashes shielded his gaze. His mouth was a firm, disciplined line, revealing nothing.

  “Friendship?” Yes, that had to be it. “You’re here because you want to prove your friendship and today you’ve more than done that. I’m grateful.”

  “I don’t want your gratitude. And I’m not here as your friend.”

  And yet he’d been by her side all day. Everyone had chipped in, but no one had been in any doubt about who was in charge. Daniel was the one who had stayed cool when four people were talking at once. Daniel had picked the good ideas from the bad.

  Today she’d had a firsthand glimpse at the skills and qualities that made him such a fine lawyer.

  Maybe he wasn’t here as her friend, but he was here, standing between her and another disaster, and that made her lucky.

  “If it’s not friendship, then I don’t know what it is, but I’m grateful for it.”

  “I don’t want your gratitude.” He hesitated and then shook his head. “You’ve had a hell of a day. We should talk about this another time.”

  “Talk about what?” She felt a rush of unease. “If something else is wrong, then I want to talk about it now. Are you upset that they dug into your past?”

  “I don’t care what they say about me, but I care what they say about you. Gabe, Mark, Fliss and Harry—they were here as your friends. I’m here because—” He paused, ran his hand across his unshaven jaw and muttered something under his breath.

  She couldn’t make out the words.

  Something about it being the wrong time? About him picking the worst possible moment? The worst possible moment for what?

  She felt a rush of alarm.

  “Daniel? Finish your sentence. You’re here because…?”

  “I’m here because I care about you.” He let his hand drop and his gaze met hers. “I love you.”

  It took a moment for the words to sink into her brain and even when they did her reaction was muted. Shock. “You don’t mean that.”

  She won’t break his heart because he doesn’t have one.

  “I mean it. I love you.”

  She stared at him and then turned and paced to the window, her arms wrapped around her waist. “You feel that way because the sex is good.”

  “The sex is good. But that isn’t the reason I feel this way.”

  She turned to face him, pure panic rising up inside her. “I can’t believe you’re saying this, Daniel. Not now. I can’t handle it along with everything else.”

  “I’m telling you how I feel, that’s all. You don’t need to handle anything.”

  “But you don’t—you can’t—” She couldn’t get the words out. “You promised me. You told me you’d never been in love.”

  “I never have been in love. But I’m in love now. With you.”

  This couldn’t be happening.

  She pressed her fingers to the base of her throat, trying to calm her breathing. “You need to leave. Right now.”

  “Molly—”

  “I’m serious. It’s for the best. You need to meet someone else. Get over me. Go and have rebound sex.” She was stammering, falling over her words in her panic.

  “You want me to go and have sex with another woman?”

  It was as if he’d driven a knife under her ribs. She had a fleeting image of him with someone else, smiling for someone else, tilting his head when he listened, eating pizza, walking in the park, laughing, talking— “Just go.” She grabbed his jacket from the sofa and thrust it at him. “Go.”

  He didn’t budge. Instead he stood, rock-solid and calm. “You have no reason to panic.”

  “You think you’re in love with me. That’s the best reason I know to panic! That’s more terrifying than anything that has happened here today. You know why? Because no matter what you say, the next thing will be you expecting me to fall in love with you. And I can’t. I’d try, I’d try really hard, and when nothing happens I’d feel crap about myself and—”

  “Hush.” He covered her lips with his fingers to silence her. “Stop talking and open your laptop, Molly.” He let his hand drop.

  “What? Why? I’ve seen all I need to see.”

  “There’s something else you need to see, and if you still want me to leave after you’ve seen it, then I’ll leave.”

  “But—”

  “It has to do with Rupert.”

  The name made her freeze. “Rupert?” What did any of this have to do with Rupert?

  “Give me five minutes. That’s all I’m asking. Five minutes.”

  Right now she wasn’t sure she was going to make it through five seconds.

  “I don’t understand what you want me to look at. I don’t understand what this has to do with what just happened.”

  “What happened was that I told you I love you, and you freaked out. I know you’re scared of love—”

  “I’m scared of hurting people. And now I’ve hurt you, or if I haven’t already I will soon! And you’re the last person in the world I’d ever want to hurt—”

  His response was to walk to her laptop and tap a few keys. “Read this. Humor me. You owe me that much.” He pulled out the chair behind her desk and nudged her into it, then sat on the desk beside her. “You thought you’d damaged his heart. Broken it. Has it ever occurred to you that it was his ego you damaged rather than his heart?”

  Why was he raking all this up now? They’d already talked about it. She’d told him everything.

  “Losing me almost killed him.”

  “Those were his words, yes? I want you to forget what he said, and look at the facts. This was a guy who loved the limelight and attention. He was king of the show until you came along. It was you who sent the ratings rocketing.”

  “The public liked our relationship.”

  “They liked you. And your relationship was part of that. And he knew it, which is why h
e pursued you.”

  “You’re suggesting he was with me because it increased the ratings? That he was raising his own profile?”

  “The evidence would suggest so.” He paused, obviously choosing his words carefully. “You thought he didn’t know the proposal was being filmed but he knew, Molly.”

  “No. He never would have agreed to it. He never would have taken that risk.”

  “He was wearing a microphone.”

  “No!” Her instinctive denial died on her lips as she saw the look on his face. “You— What makes you think that?”

  “I have a friend in the business. He checked the sound quality. Rupert was definitely wearing a lapel microphone. If you look closely, you can see the wire.”

  A wire? She would have noticed. Wouldn’t she? On the other hand, she’d been panicking too much to notice anything. Maybe he’d been counting on that.

  “But why would he propose if he wasn’t in love with me? I might have said yes.”

  “He knew you wouldn’t say yes. He knew you didn’t love him.”

  “You’re saying he proposed, knowing I’d turn him down? But that would have meant he was setting himself up for public humiliation. What guy would ever do that? What did he possibly hope to gain?”

  “He gained public sympathy, a massive boost in his popularity and he got you removed from the show, although I suspect that was an added bonus rather than part of the original plan.”

  It was too much to take in. Too far apart from everything she’d believed for so long.

  “I broke his heart. Just as I broke the hearts of all the guys I dated before him, even though I tried really hard not to.”

  “I can’t comment on the guys before, but I can comment on Rupert. Take a look at this.” He tilted the laptop screen toward her. “Take a look at what the man whose life you supposedly ruined is doing now.”

  She stared at the screen. “I— He’s married? To Laura Lyle. She was a researcher on the program when I was there. How long have they been married?”

  “Almost three years.”

  “Three—” Even in her confusion she could still do basic math. “So he must have started dating her almost immediately after we broke up.”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t think he was brokenhearted for long. And now that’s enough.” He closed the laptop. “You didn’t damage his heart, honey. You damaged his ego. He couldn’t handle the fact that you were more popular. He staged the whole thing as a publicity stunt to boost his career.”

  She’d carried it for so long, the belief that she’d hurt someone badly.

  Knowing that it wasn’t the case should have given her instant relief, shouldn’t it?

  “I’m angry.”

  “Good. Anger is better than guilt.”

  She was silent for a long minute. Then she stood up and turned to look at him.

  “I’m glad you showed me this, but none of this changes the fact that I don’t want you to fall in love with me. I care about you, Daniel. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

  “I know you care about me. That’s why I’m sharing the way I feel about you.”

  “I care about you as a friend. A lover. I don’t want anything to change.”

  Everything had already changed.

  He knew it. She knew it.

  It was the reason she was panicking.

  “This isn’t about Rupert.” He stood up, too, refusing to allow her to back away. “It isn’t about any of the other men you dated. It isn’t even about your mother. It’s about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. You’ve always been made to feel you’re not enough. Your mother made you feel that way, and so did Rupert. Two people who supposedly loved you forced you to question yourself, personally and professionally. And it has left you worried you’ll never be enough for someone. But you’re enough for me, Molly.” He framed her face with his hands, forcing her to look at him. “You’re enough for me. Everything you are, the person you are—” he lowered his forehead to hers, holding her gaze “—you’re more than enough. You’re everything.”

  She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t speak.

  Her chest was full. Terror, excitement, exhilaration, despair.

  She needed to think, but there was no chance to think with his eyes on hers and his hands in her hair.

  “I love you.” He said it again, softly this time. “And I think you love me.”

  The words roused her from her trance.

  “No.” She pulled away from him, stepping backward so fast she nearly stepped on Valentine’s paw. “Yes, we’ve had fun, but part of the reason for that fun was that neither of us was in love. For the first time in my life I wasn’t even trying to fall in love. There was no pressure. No expectation. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever been, the most myself I’ve been. I’ve told you everything about me, shared all of me.” She felt a flash of panic as she met his steady gaze and realized how that probably sounded. All right, so she’d been relaxed and herself, but that didn’t make it love, did it? So why was he still looking at her, as if he was waiting for her to have a lightbulb moment? “I don’t mean all of me, obviously. My heart is still exactly how it was before I met you. I don’t know what I’m saying because you’re looking at me in that way and—”

  “What way? How am I looking at you?”

  He was looking at her with kindness, amusement, patience and a million other things she didn’t expect to see in the face of a man she’d rejected.

  “You know how! As if you’re waiting for me to say something I’m never going to be able to say! I’m so, so sorry to hurt you but I’m definitely not in love. Not in love. No. Never. It isn’t something that happens to me and believe me, I should know because I’ve tried—” She broke off as he covered her lips with his fingers and nodded.

  “All right. I get it.” He let his hand drop, but she could still feel the pressure of his fingertips against her mouth.

  All right? That was all he was going to say? No argument or recriminations? No emotional blackmail? Perhaps he didn’t believe her. “You need evidence?” She scrabbled around for something that might convince him. “I don’t look at you with starry eyes and talk to you in a baby voice.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Good. I’m not big on baby voices.”

  “My appetite is fine. At no point has being with you ever put me off my food.”

  “That’s good, too.” There was a tenderness in his voice that almost crushed her.

  “I don’t even dream about you.” That wasn’t quite true, but it had been just a couple of times so those didn’t count.

  He was silent for a moment and then he slowly reached for his jacket.

  “I thought you weren’t leaving.” Her heart kicked against her ribs. “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve changed my mind. I probably should leave.” He sounded tired.

  “But—you— I just told you I don’t love you.”

  “I heard you.” His voice was level. “You’ve told me how you felt, so we’re good.”

  Good? He didn’t seem good. She’d hurt him. She’d really hurt him. And knowing that made her feel physically sick.

  “So—am I ever going to see you again?”

  “Of course. We’re friends. Friends don’t stop being friends just because they don’t agree on everything.” He stooped to stroke Valentine and then strode to the door. “It’s been a long night. Get some sleep, Molly.”

  Sleep?

  She watched as he closed the door behind him. How was she supposed to sleep? There was a weight crushing her chest and she felt as if someone was squeezing her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus.

  She rubbed her chest with her palm, trying to ease the ache. The last person in the world she wanted to hurt was Daniel, so of course she was going to feel bad about that.

  That’s what the pain was. Guilt. Nothing else. What else could it be?

  Twenty-One

  “She broke it off. The first t
ime I have ever said ‘I love you’ to a woman, and she virtually threw me out of her apartment.” Daniel paced to the window of his sisters’ apartment. Was this how it felt? All those people who had trailed through his office, devastated at the end of their relationship—had they felt as bad as this? If he’d known, he might have been more sympathetic. On the other hand he was paid for legal advice, not sympathy. He felt as if something vital inside him had been torn. Internal injuries, not visible from the outside. “Now what?”

  He never should have said those words to her. At least not right then, when her brain had been occupied trying to process everything else that was going on.

  He’d picked the worst possible time.

  On the other hand their relationship had been one long sequence of secrets and misunderstandings. He’d thought it was time to put the truth out there and see how it went down.

  It hadn’t gone down well.

  Harriet spoke first. “Was that a rhetorical question or are you actually asking us for advice?”

  “I’m asking. I need help.” He turned and looked at both of them. His sisters. His family. “I’ll take anything you’ve got.”

  Visibly awkward, Fliss rubbed her toes on the wooden floor. “When it comes to relationship advice, I don’t have much. Harry?”

  “Not personal experience, but I’ve read a lot.” She rescued one of the kittens who was about to dive from the sofa. “Quite a bit of what I’ve read was written by Molly.”

  “That could be a good thing, and in any case, I’m desperate.”

  Fliss exchanged glances with her sister and shrugged. “Not that I’m an expert, but I would say your timing sucked.”

  “I know my timing sucked!”

  “Hey, you asked for advice! You said you’d take anything we’ve got, and that’s what I’ve got.”

  “I’m sorry.” His head crowded with emotions that were unfamiliar and uncomfortable. If this was love, he wasn’t sure he liked it. He felt helpless, and he’d never felt helpless in his life before.