Love Me

by Diane Alberts

  “Jesus, will you let me fucking talk?” he snarled. The elevator door opened behind him, but he stayed where he was, glaring at her with something like desperation.

  That was the last straw. He was going to get ugly with her after he’d dropped this on her out of nowhere? When she was trying to remain calm and collected? She clamped her lips together until they stilled their trembling.

  “You don’t need to. I’ve been avoiding this conversation, but it’s about time it came up. We’re done.” She stepped closer—and shoved him back, out of the elevator. His face blanked with shock and…was that hurt? No. She wouldn’t think about that. He didn’t get to be hurt right now. While he stumbled, struggling to regain his balance, she stabbed the button for the lobby. “Good-bye, Thomas.”

  “Brianna, wait—!”

  The elevator door closed, almost on his reaching fingers.

  Brianna stood there watching the numbers count down. Numb. Frozen. God, she’d been so stupid. So obliviously happy. She felt the knot welling in her throat, her eyes burning, but the hot, painful tension inside her wouldn’t break into tears. She wondered distantly if she was in shock.

  That hadn’t just happened.

  She’d thought he’d been perfect. Maybe that was the problem. He was too perfect. He said all the right things, did everything perfectly, was too handsome, too witty, too intelligent. Too good. She’d been lucky enough to find a good man once, who loved her until the day he died. She hadn’t thought love had been possible back then, but Michael had showed her it existed. But not with Thomas.

  To hell with Thomas. To hell with men.

  She had her kids and her memories of Michael. They were all she needed. And right now, she had every intention of flagging down a cab and going home to a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. She could spend her night in her pajamas, watching chick flicks, and sobbing into her tub of mint-chocolate calorie overload.

  After she got rid of Jeremy and Erica.

  Her vision blurred. She wiped at her eyes with a curse and pushed past the elevator doors before they fully had a chance to open, stalking out into the lobby. The front desk staff was probably staring at her, but hell. It was Vegas. They should be used to seeing crying women storm out of hotels.

  A door banged open behind her, and Thomas’s voice rose in a ragged shout. “Brianna!”

  She glanced over her shoulder just in time to see him lunge out of the stairwell. No. She couldn’t face him right now. Couldn’t face his excuses and whatever reasons he wanted to spill out just to make him feel better about himself. Just so he could get his closure. She’d been through it too many times, only before it had been just casual dates during the brief period she’d spent venturing into the dating pool.

  It hadn’t been a man she’d thought she’d fallen in love with and could see herself with for the rest of her life.

  His voice chased her, but she ignored him and walked faster, the impact of each sharp-clicking step quivering up through her heels. She pushed the lobby door open so hard it jingled and bounced off the outside wall and nearly ran across the parking lot. It was getting harder and harder to see. She needed to get home before she busted out bawling. And goddammit, if he didn’t stop calling her name—

  “Brianna, if you’d just let me explain—”

  “No!” She whirled and glared at him. “You said you don’t want to date me anymore. And I’m fine with that. Okay? I’m trying to make this easy for you. For both of us. So just leave me alone. I don’t want you near my kids—or me.” Inspiration struck. She knew how to make him feel better—while simultaneously leaving her alone. “I was going to call it off between us, anyway.”

  “O-Oh.” His face crumpled. His outstretched hand dropped to his side; his other hand was hidden behind his back. For a moment her heart broke. How could he look at her like that? Like she’d torn his heart out, when he was the one who’d just decided to break things off with her, in the damned elevator of all places?

  “I just can’t. I can’t.” She backed away a few steps, then turned and ran. She barely saw the crosswalk, only knew the light was red and the little man was telling her it was safe to walk to the southbound side of the street and flag down a cabbie who was going her way. Even better, there was a bus pulling up to the curb; public transit worked just as well. Anything with wheels that pointed somewhere toward home. She ran faster. She probably looked stupid, bolting in front of traffic in heels with tears running down her cheeks.

  As long as it got her away from him, she didn’t care.

  The light changed just as she reached the sidewalk and nearly fell against the signpost when one of her three-inch heels twisted underneath her and nearly pitched her to the sidewalk. The bus was easing forward. She struggled upright and ran for it.

  “Wait!”

  The bus slowed, lights flashing. The door opened, and she stumbled up the steps, fumbling in her purse for change. Fuck. Fuck, she could still hear him, calling her name, begging her to wait.

  “Go,” she told the driver. “Now!”

  The man stared at her strangely. She must look a fright, sweaty and red-faced with her eyes brimming with tears and her hair flying everywhere. She shoved a dollar bill into the slot with shaking fingers. The doors started to squeak closed, and the bus rolled forward.

  “Bri—”

  Thomas never finished. His voice broke off in a sharp cry. Brianna turned so quickly she nearly stumbled. Thomas had thrust his hand into the door, stopping it from closing, and it was caught, clenched tight between the folding accordion halves and squeezing tighter.

  And the bus was still moving.

  The momentum dragged him forward so sharply his entire body smacked into the side of the vehicle. Cries of curiosity and surprise rose from the back of the bus. Someone shouted something about 911. Thomas’s face crushed against the glass door with a sickening crunch that turned Brianna’s stomach, and blood blossomed from his nose.

  “Thomas!”

  “Shit, man!” the bus driver cried, slamming on the brakes. He yanked the door release. It slammed open, releasing Thomas’s arm. He staggered back, clutching his nose with a hand turned nearly purple. His eyes were wide, dazed.

  “I dink du broke by dose,” he said thickly.

  Brianna tumbled down the steps. “Oh God, are you all right? What were you thinking? Why would you do that?”

  His eyes focused slowly. He looked at her, and then smiled. It was the most ridiculous smile she’d ever seen, with blood streaming down from his swollen and reddened nose—and it was almost heartbreakingly sweet. “Du wuddin listhen. I hadda gatch du.”

  The tears that had been threatening were so close to spilling over. She reached up to touch his swelling face gingerly; he hissed and flinched. She bit her lip. That idiot. He couldn’t even talk, and he was still standing there smiling at her.

  “Nothing you could say is worth hurting yourself like this,” she said.

  “Dumthink ish. Du diddin leg be dell du.” His smile widened. “Du diddin leg be gib du thig.”

  What the hell had he just said?

  His other hand came from behind his back. He was holding one of her missing shoes—the cute little Dior with the artfully tapered heel and the bow on the toe. But it wasn’t the shoe that made her legs go weak, until she was forced to sit down heavily, bottom thumping down against the bus steps.

  It was the glittering diamond ring encircling the shoe’s spiked heel, reflecting back the Vegas lights like a star.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Broken noses hurt like a bitch.

  But not nearly as much as the pain he’d felt when Brianna had run away from him, so convinced he was like every other man who’d ever hurt her. Every other man who’d left her—even Michael. It hadn’t been her husband’s choice to leave, but that hadn’t left Brianna any less alone. Any less wounded. Thomas hadn’t realized quite how wounded until he’d tried to tell her how he felt…and she’d jumped to the conclusion that he was reject
ing her.

  Especially when he started off his carefully planned speech with, I don’t want to date you anymore. He was a fucking idiot.

  Now she stared at him, her eyes wide and disbelieving, her lips parted and trembling. Everyone on the bus was watching him. He didn’t care. He’d been trying to nerve himself up to this for days, and he’d decided tonight was the night.

  He wasn’t going to let one broken nose stop him.

  The possibly broken fingers might be a problem, but he’d worry about that later.

  The bus driver half rose from his seat. “Dude, you can’t do shit like that. Look, I got it on camera that you stuck your hand in, so we’re not liable—”

  “I don’t care,” Thomas said without ever taking his eyes from Brianna, only it sounded more like I gon ger. Great. He was about to propose, and he sounded like a Swedish Oompa Loompa. He tried again, careful to articulate every word. “I. Don’t. Care.”

  “Insurance is gonna care, and you need to get to a hospital—”

  “I’ll go when I’m done with my business here.”

  The driver sank back down with a mutter. “Yeah? Whatever, man. On or off. I gotta schedule to keep.”

  “Brianna,” Thomas said gently. She wasn’t moving, wasn’t responding. He stepped up onto the bottom step and gripped her arm with his good hand, transferring the shoe to his bruised, cramping fingers. “Come on. Let’s find a seat.”

  She stood shakily, still silent. Her silence, that stunned look on her face, left his heart heavy. Maybe he’d fucked up too much. Maybe he was moving too fast, but he couldn’t help it. He loved her, and he didn’t see the point in wasting time with formalities when he already knew he wanted to be with her. But maybe she really didn’t want him…

  He guided her to a seat and nudged her into it. She dropped down like a marionette with cut strings. He sank down next to her. She just looked at him, brows knitting.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, voice lost.

  “You didn’t give me a chance to explain. When I said I didn’t want to date you anymore, I meant it.” He tried to smile. It hurt like a whore, and the blood pooling on his upper lip felt disgusting. He could taste it in his mouth. “I didn’t want to just have meaningless sex with you again. Not without telling you exactly how I feel.”

  A touch of fire snapped in her eyes, clearing away some of the fog. “You might have started out with that instead of what you said.”

  “I know. I’m an idiot.” He caught her chin in his fingers. She was a mess. Her eyes red-rimmed, her hair everywhere in a wild blond cloud, her makeup streaked by sweat. He’d never seen her more beautiful. “And I don’t blame you for running away. I could have done that better.”

  Her gaze dropped to the shoe. “Why is there a ring on my shoe?” she asked, her voice practically a whisper of a whisper.

  “I’m getting there.”

  He slid off the seat. His everything hurt; he’d hit the side of the bus pretty hard. But that didn’t matter right now. Ignoring the twinge in his spine and the creak of his knees, he sank down to one knee in the bus aisle. A chorus of gasps and excited chatter rose around them. He felt like an actor on a stage, audience and all—but there was nothing feigned about his feelings. This was too real. So real it was frightening, so real he couldn’t stand to let it go. Without Brianna, his life would feel like a shell. Like he was going through the motions.

  He couldn’t stand the thought of going back to a life like that.

  She was still staring at him, flushed, her hands fretting together in her lap. She darted a nervous glance around. “Thomas, I—”

  “Let me, sweetheart. Please. Talking is a little painful right now. I’d like to at least get it out before the swelling gets worse.”

  That got a weak, shaky laugh out of her, at least. His smile widened. Or maybe that was just his lips puffing up.

  This was not how he’d imagined this going.

  Then again, he’d planned his proposal to Nicole. He’d planned it so perfectly it had gone off without a hitch. Perfectly scripted. Passionless. Predictable. Fake. Just as fake as his marriage had been. This was real.

  And there was no way in hell he could let this go.

  He reached for her hand and enfolded it in his, gently stilling her trembling fingers against his palm. He took a deep breath. He’d planned a careful speech, too, every word precisely chosen…but that speech had been for a woman like Nicole. And Brianna deserved better.

  As real as she was, she deserved the real Thomas.

  “I’m an asshole,” he blurted out. “I’m a blundering, stupid idiot. I came into your life and put us both in a compromising position that could have screwed up your career and mine. I have no clue how to tell you how beautiful I find you without repeating the same thing until I sound like a recording, because I suck at flattery. I came stomping into your family and started swinging around like I had the damnedest clue what I was doing, when I know as much about what to do with a kid as I do with a nuclear reactor, and with pretty much the same results. I’ve gotten a black eye and a broken nose all within a week of each other, but I’ve never been happier.”

  She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, her lips twitching. “Like mother, like son. At least it wasn’t your eye this time.”

  He chuckled. “I should start wearing padded armor.” He shook his head. “No. Scratch that. I’m tired of wearing armor around you, Brianna. I’m tired of keeping you out. And even if I’m an asshole, and an idiot, and a lot of other stupid things…I love you. I love you, I love your kids, and I want to be a part of your family. A real part of your family. I couldn’t stand to even think about buying a house in Vegas, because it wouldn’t be a home without you in it.”

  She was looking at him again, her expression stricken. His heart inched a little further south, relocating a few ribs down, somewhere around the spatter of blood spots staining his shirt. Hell. She wasn’t going to make this easy, was she?

  Fine. He’d do this the hard way, and for once he wouldn’t hold back.

  “I understand if you don’t love me. And you don’t have to give me an answer now, whether it’s yes or no. I know you probably need time to think. And if you don’t want me around your kids that much, I understand. I know they come first. And I…I’m not trying to replace Michael—”

  “Shut up,” she said. Her voice cracked. She pressed her fingertips to his lips, her skin stained with his blood. “You talk too much, you know that?”

  “I might have heard it once or twice before,” he said wryly.

  She smiled. He could barely see the hazel of her eyes past the reflective sheen of tears. “You can’t replace Michael,” she said, and his gut knotted up tight. He braced himself, started to let go of her fingers—but she held on tight. “I don’t want you to. I was never looking for a replacement for Michael. I never wanted you as a substitute for him. Yes, I’ll always love him for who he was.” She hesitated. “But I also love you for who you are.”

  Thomas’s heart stopped. Either he was hearing things past the throbbing in his skull, or she’d just said she loved him. Him, not some fictionalized expectation of who he should be. Not the man Nicole had wanted or the slick, smiling asshole he pretended to be for work.

  Him.

  He let out a whoop—then groaned and clutched at his face. “Ow.”

  “Idiot,” she said, then laughed and cupped his cheek gently. “I love you, Thomas. But everyone’s staring at us, and if you don’t ask me now I might black your other eye for Zach’s sake.”

  “Ask…? Oh!”

  He’d almost forgotten the shoe he was clutching like a lifeline. Brianna loved him, and that had eclipsed everything else. He let go of her hand and fumbled the ring free from the shoe; he’d wedged it on too tight, and with his swollen fingers he couldn’t get a grip on it.

  “Let me,” she said with patient amusement.

  She took the shoe from him and gently slid the ring free. He closed his fingers around
hers and captured the ring against her palm, looking up at her. Her golden hair was like a halo, wild as she was, framing that lovely smile that he’d do anything to keep on her face.

  “Brianna Faulk,” he said, and hoped to God he wouldn’t trip on the words that meant more to him than any words in his life. “Will you marry me?”

  Her fingers curled into a fist inside his. “If you marry me, you marry my kids.”

  “There’s nothing I want more.”

  “Then…” Oh God, was she trying to kill him? That pregnant pause nearly turned his heart to stone, that unreadable look in her eyes—before she broke into another smile, so brilliant it filled him up with all the love, the life, he’d been missing for so many years. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  A sudden chorus of cheers, shouts, and catcalls cut off Thomas’s response. He startled, blinking and looking around. He’d forgotten they were on a public bus surrounded by people. Those people were grinning now, laughing. A burly-looking man with a hardhat in his lap gave him a thumbs-up. An older woman, her nut-brown skin wizened and grooved, favored him with a kindly nod, her dark eyes gleaming.

  “Well, go on, young man,” she said, her voice creaking and whispery. “Kiss the girl.”

  He laughed. God, he couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. He swiped a hand across his mouth. Once. Then twice. Finally, it came back clean. “Gladly.”

  He drew Brianna down to him with their clasped hands and kissed her. Despite his bloody nose he could taste only her—her sweetness, her laughter, her warmth, her love. He’d always felt he was missing something in his life. Always thought it was just another midlife crisis he’d fill with a sports car and an executive title and a nice house, but all those things were empty. They didn’t matter.

  What mattered was the woman whose mouth fit so perfectly against his—and the way she fit so perfectly into his heart.

  Pulling back reluctantly, he stroked her fingers, coaxed them apart, pried the ring free. And when he slipped it onto her finger, gliding it over the softness of her knuckles, her breath hitched and she stared at him with wonder.