by Megan Hart
She wasn’t.
“Are you here to ask me to run away with you?” Anne asked in a flat, brittle voice. She was nowhere near close enough for him to touch her, but with the look on her face, even a stupidass prick like Alex Kennedy wouldn’t have dared.
“Jamie asked me to the concert.” His words were thick, unwieldy, his clumsy tongue making them sound combative when he didn’t mean to be.
Anne crossed her arms, a defensive posture. Protecting her heart. Alex wanted to put a hand over his own to push away his own pain.
“I didn’t know he didn’t tell you I’d be there,” Alex said.
“Why are you here?” Anne asked.
Words came out, but like a dumbass, they weren’t what he really wanted to say. “I thought it would be fun.”
He might as well have slapped her in the face, the way she flinched. Anne closed her eyes, turning away. Alex had never felt so small.
“You are so selfish,” she whispered. Then again, louder. “Selfish.”
He wanted to protest, but she was right.
“You knew how I feel about you, and you show up to a fucking concert? Like nothing happened? Like you didn’t fucking break my heart into a million pieces, and what, you just think you can come along and put your hands all over me and make me want you again?”
“Anne…”
But she wasn’t having any of it.
“I’ve tried to hate you, and there are times when I almost make it, Alex. I almost hate you. And then I am reminded that I love you, and everything hurts all over again, and I want to hate you but all I can do is hate myself for ever thinking that maybe you had one shred of feeling for me.” She held up a hand to stop him from speaking, although all he’d managed was a noise from the depths of his throat. “But obviously, you think nothing of me. You care nothing for me. If you did, if you had the tiniest crumb of love for me, you would never have done this. You would never have been so simply, casually selfish. But that’s what I guess I should expect from you, isn’t it? It’s all you’ve ever been. It’s all you will ever be.”
Alex reached for her then, or maybe Anne moved toward him, maybe to hit him, maybe because she wanted this, too, but she was in his arms. She kissed him like she wanted to punch him in the face with her lips. He pulled away bruised and stinging, tasting blood and her tears. It didn’t matter if Anne couldn’t bring herself to hate him. He hated himself enough for both of them.
“I’m sorry,” he said. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t ever be enough, but he said it because it was the only thing he could say. “I’m sorry, Anne, I’m really sorry.”
She let him hold her. She didn’t relax against him at first. It was like hugging a board or a rod of iron. But she pressed her face to the side of his neck after a minute, and her arms went around him.
She whispered in his ear, “I hate you.”
That glorious, tragic summer, they’d spent hours in and out of bed, getting each other off, but right then all Alex could think about was the times when she’d fallen asleep next to him. When he’d listened to the sound of her breathing soften and slow and the weight of her relax. He’d been happy next to Anne. Who doesn’t want to be happy?
“I’m sorry. If I could take it all back—”
“No. Don’t you fucking dare take any of it back.” Anne glared. Angry. Sad. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful it ended him. Always and ever his but never belonging to him, his Anne. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
In the silence that grew between them, all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss her again. He didn’t. Perhaps for the first time, he was man enough not to take what he wanted and say fuck the consequences. She studied him, and Alex had no idea what she was thinking. He guessed he never had.
“Are you here to ask me to run away with you, Alex?” Anne asked again.
He could have said yes, and meant it, at least in that moment. But instead, he gave her the truth that would last a lot longer than a minute. “No.”
She nodded and stepped away from him, though she let their fingers link and linger. “Thanks for not lying.”
“Would you have said yes?”
Anne laughed. “Oh, Alex.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Her lip curled. She dropped his hand. “Yeah? Well, you don’t get a different one. You don’t get to come back to me and touch me and ask me questions like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You said that already.” She shook her head. Her eyes were bright, but she wasn’t crying. “You know, even two or three months ago, I would’ve said yes. But now…”
“Not now?”
“Not now.”
Alex sat on the edge of the bed. It was late. He’d been drunk but now exhaustion overwhelmed him. And he did love her, more than he’d ever known he could love another person.
“I’m sorry, Anne. I really am. For everything. I won’t take it back,” he said hastily, before she could interrupt. “But fuck, I am so fucking sorry that I hurt you.”
He’d never apologized to anyone before that. Not in that way, not meaning it. If getting on his knees for her would’ve made a difference, believe it, he’d have been there with his face on the grotty hotel carpet. But all he did was sit on the edge of the bed and look at her, hoping she would forgive him even though he didn’t deserve it.
“I love you, Alex. But I love my husband, too. And you’re his best friend, and I know you love him, and he loves you, and all of this is a huge fucking disastrous mess, but…” She drew in a long, shaky breath. “But when you love someone, you want them to be happy, and I want you to be happy. I want James to be happy. I want to be happy.”
Anne drew in another breath and looked him in the eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
For a crazy, terrifying, amazing few seconds, he thought the kid was his. It had been six months since he’d seen her. If she was six months along, she was hiding it really well.
“I love you, Alex, but I’m married to James. We’re going to have a baby. I want you to be happy, but I don’t want you to ever again touch me the way you did tonight.” She paused. “How does that make you feel?”
“Like shit,” he answered honestly.
“Good. I hope it breaks you. I hope the thought of never touching me again makes you want to die,” Anne said.
It did. She kissed him, then. Softer than the first time. They got into bed together, all their clothes still on, and she fit herself against him. Spooning. He breathed her in and felt her fall asleep next to him. He tried hard to stay awake so he could keep as much of her as he could, but he didn’t make it.
When he woke up, she was gone.
Chapter 16
Back to Philly. It wasn’t home, but it was the last place Alex had landed, and at least it was a place to stay until he figured his shit out. The Hershey gig was still up for grabs. Alex could stay with Patrick and his husband Teddy in Harrisburg, that had been the offer. Alex wasn’t sure he wanted to take the guy up on it — it felt as though there might be some expectations going along with what on the surface seemed to be a generous offer. Still, he appreciated the leads on the work. He might not need the money, but he needed the distraction.
When he closed his eyes, he could still feel and smell and taste Anne Kinney, but she had made it clear there would never be anything more between them, and somehow, that had started to make it easier for him to…well. Not to get over her. He didn’t think his love for Anne was ever going to be something he could get “over.” But he could move beyond it, leave it behind, move forward. Yeah. He could do that.
He had to do that.
“Welcome back, Mr. Kennedy.” The front desk clerk, a perky blonde with perfect brows and a Marilyn Monroe beauty mark smiled at him. “I have you checking out the day after tomorrow, is that correct?”
Alex returned her smile, but kept it dialed back. He couldn’t tell if she was flirting with him or not, and that was a disturbing realization, that he’d lost some of his fl
irt-meter. “Not sure yet.”
She typed rapidly, swiped his credit card, and slid a key across to him. “Have a great day.”
Definitely not flirting, then. He took the key and gave her a nod, then went upstairs. He had a new room, but the same view, and if that wasn’t the best description for his life, he didn’t know what was.
Chapter 17
Alex was not in the mood for dancing, especially not country line dancing, but The Rusty Nail served one of the best bacon cheeseburgers he’d ever had, and it was close enough to his hotel that he could easily walk. This early in the evening he didn’t expect there to be much of a crowd, but apparently lot of other hungry carnivores had the same idea. He was seated at a small two-top near what would later clear out to become the dance floor.
The waitress did not flirt with him. If anything, she gave him even less attention than the front desk clerk had. Maybe that grinning cat was right, and they were all fucking mad here. He sure as hell sometimes felt like he’d gone totally insane. He almost wanted to give himself a surreptitious sniff or head for the bathroom to make sure he didn’t have something green in his teeth. He settled for digging into his burger and onion rings, savoring every delicious and disgusting bite. His gut was going to hate him for this indulgence, but what the hell. Based on the past couple days, he was headed for a dry spell in his sex life, and that wouldn’t be a bad thing.
He needed time, he thought as he dragged an onion ring through some ketchup. The idea was sobering. He’d been on the prowl pretty much since he’d had his first boner. The concept of celibacy had never appealed to him and sure as shit had never been necessary for him in the past. If anything, Alex had been blessed — or cursed, with a surfeit of sexual opportunities. He could take some time off. Find himself, wasn’t that what people did after a heartbreak?
Yeah. He’d take some time to find himself. Figure out who he was, what he wanted.
Alex laughed aloud into his beer at that crunchy granola, sandal-wearing bunch of bullshit his brain had conjured. The chuckle hurt him deep in the chest, in the place where his heart was still valiantly beating despite all the damage he’d done to it. He knew who he was. He’d told Anne he was a ragged rascal, and that hadn’t changed. Probably never would.
His laughter cut off abruptly when he looked across the bar and saw Luke. He wasn’t alone. The girl who’d thrown the engagement ring back at him sat at the same table. They were holding hands across the length of it. Smiling. Laughing. They looked happy.
Well, that was something, wasn’t it? And who would Alex be to judge, if Luke had decided to do whatever he had to in order to get his girl to forgive him? It wasn’t any of his business. The fact that this was the very bar where he’d met Luke in the first place, taken him home, fucked him…it wasn’t a sign of anything except that probably he should get out of here before either of them saw him.
He paid his bill and avoided looking in Luke’s direction. Alex didn’t want any drama. He wanted to finish this gluttonous meal, pay his bill and head home to sleep off the food. No such luck, though, because a shadow fell over the table.
“Luke,” Alex said evenly.
“What are you doing here?”
Alex gestured at the plate. “Eating dinner.”
Luke glanced over his shoulder toward his table, and Alex followed his gaze. The young woman wasn’t there. Maybe she’d gone to the bathroom. Luke turned back, pitching his voice low.
“I didn’t know you were still in town.”
“There’s no reason for you to know,” Alex said.
Luke frowned. “I want to see you. Tonight. I’ll drop her off —”
“That’s not a good idea,” Alex interrupted, keeping his voice light. Non-confrontational. “I’m sure you know that, man.”
“I have to,” Luke said. “Please.”
Alex drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, Luke was still there. “Fine. I’m at the same hotel. Room 510. Come by whenever.”
Luke nodded stiffly and headed back to the table, slipping into his seat before his girlfriend or fiancée or whatever she was got back. Alex had no more appetite for his meal. He gestured for the check. Paid it. Left The Rusty Nail without so much as a glance at Luke.
The walk back to the hotel didn’t take long, but it was enough time for Alex to consider checking out of the hotel and making his escape before Luke could get there. Hell, he could even leave his baggage behind. There was nothing he didn’t have the money to replace. This, the idea of a fresh start, was so appealing that he was already calculating where he’d go. Back in his room, though, there was that view again.
A new room but the same view.
He wasn’t going to run away this time. Whatever Luke had to say to him, Alex would hear. Even if it was painful.
The night dragged on so long that Alex stopped expecting a knock on the door. He’d showered and put on his pair of faded Batman pajama bottoms. Played around on his laptop for a while, following up on some consulting projects. It was the earliest he’d been in bed — alone and sober, anyway, in so long he couldn’t remember the last time. He’d just turned off the light when the rap came at the door.
Alex braced himself for Luke to be drunk. Maybe he’d even have the girlfriend in tow. He opened the door to find the other guy alone, and if he’d been drinking, he wasn’t showing signs of it.
“Hi,” Luke said.
Alex stepped aside to let him in. Closed the door behind him. Turned. “Hi.”
Luke sat on the edge of the bed without being invited. He linked his fingers together, holding his hands in his lap. He cleared his throat, but didn’t speak.
Alex sat in the desk chair, twirling it to face Luke. “What’s up?”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you there tonight.”
“I wasn’t expecting you, either,” Alex said, then added, “is everything cool?”
Luke nodded. Then shook his head. “No. Shit. I don’t know. I thought….shit, man. I don’t know.”
“You looked pretty happy,” Alex said.
Luke grimaced. “She’s happy. She said she’s willing to forget she ever saw anything. She’s not going to tell anyone.”
“If you think that’s true, then you’re kind of a sucker,” Alex told him, but kindly.
“She promised.”
Alex shrugged. “People make promises they can’t keep, man. Your girl…if she didn’t tell at least one good girl friend or her sister or her mom or somebody as soon as she found us, you can believe that she will the first time you piss her off.”
“She’s not like that.” Luke had said that before, but now he sounded uncertain.
“Everyone is like that,” Alex said.
Luke sighed and ran his hands through the cropped bristle of his hair. He got up, started pacing, stopped himself short. He turned toward Alex.
“I don’t want to lose my family. Or my friends. How’d you deal with it?”
Alex shrugged again. “I lost my family. Some friends. You learn to deal with it.”
“Shit. I don’t want to learn to deal with it,” Luke muttered. He sat again on the edge of the bed. His leg jittered up and down, fast, until Alex reached to put a hand on it to stop him. Luke calmed, but barely.
“You’re the only person who can decide what’s best for you. But let me give you some advice, since you seem to think I’m the guy with the answers. If you don’t want to be with her — ”
“I love her!” Luke sounded agonized.
Alex could relate.
“You can love her all you want, hell, even if you don’t want,” Alex snapped. “But if you don’t want to be with her, let her go. Better to hurt her once, even twice, than over and over again. Because you will, man. Eventually, you will break her. And that probably will break you. ”
Luke made a strangled, desperate noise. “How do I know what I fucking want?”
“How does anybody know? I have no idea. Maybe you’re meant to get ma
rried, have babies and the house with the white picket fence and a big old pickup truck. But if you have thoughts at all that you might be the guy to tell his wife he’s going bowling and instead sneaks off to get his dick sucked by a stranger he picks up in a gay bar, you’d better be sure you’re ok with being that guy. And shit, Luke…even I can see you’re not that kind of guy.” Alex shook his head. “You’re a good guy. A nice guy.”
“You don’t make that sound like a compliment.” Luke sounded and looked miserable.
“It’s not an insult.” Alex moved from the chair to the bed. He took Luke’s hand as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder. “I meant you’re not an asshole, like me.”
“You’re not an asshole.” At the sight of Alex’s expression, Luke laughed and amended, “Okay, so you’re not a total asshole. You have a few redeeming qualities.”
Alex nudged him with his shoulder. “Don’t tell me what they are. I’ll get a swelled head.”
Luke sighed and half-turned to put his forehead on Alex’s shoulder. “I thought seeing you tonight meant something. Like the universe was telling me what to do. But now that I’m here with you, I still don’t know.”
Alex stroked his hand over the back of Luke’s head. “You don’t have to decide right this second what to do for the rest of your life. You can just figure out what you need to do for tonight. Then tomorrow. Then the day after that. But you do have to decide, man.”
“What if what I want to do tonight is you?” Luke whispered.
Alex didn’t move away. He tipped his head to press his lips to the other man’s forehead. He’d already made so many mistakes, some of them with Luke. He was going to try his best not to keep making them.
“Sometimes, not getting what you want is better in the long run,” Alex said.
Luke laughed bitterly and sat back. His eyes glittered with unshed tears. Two spots of bright color painted his cheeks.
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“I never know what I’m talking about,” Alex told him. “I’m a bullshitter, and I lie. All the time.”