by Serena Grey
“I had a great time.” She sounds as stilted as I feel.
“I’m glad I could be of service.”
She sighs at my tone. “I’m just going to have a drink with him.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug. “You said yourself that you can’t just get over someone you’ve loved for years.”
“I was talking about Laurie.”
“So it doesn’t apply to you and Jack?” I sound like an insecure, jealous lover—which maybe I am. “You’re completely over him?”
She makes a frustrated sound. “Yes.”
“So why do you need to go out with him?”
She folds her arms and gives me a stubborn glare. “Because he’s also been a friend. Not every relationship is built completely on sex.”
Unlike ours. She doesn’t say it, but that’s what she means. “You were the one who demanded that this thing we have had to be based on sex alone.”
She swallows. “Maybe now I want more.”
From me or from Weyland? “Do you?”
She draws in a breath. “You can’t give me what I want,” she whispers.
Something freezes inside me. If she’d rather be with Jack Weyland and whatever kind of love and friendship he gives her, it’s fine by me.
I will not beg.
Even though I want to.
“I find it very enlightening that we’re having this conversation right after you spoke to him.” My voice is tight and accusing, but I don’t care. “If you’d rather be with your ex, you don’t have to conjure vague reasons why we shouldn’t be together. Just let me know, and I won’t stop you.”
Her eyes cloud, and a small line forms between her eyebrows. “This has absolutely nothing to do with Jack.”
I hate the sound of his name on her lips. I hate that I’m losing her, and that maybe I deserve to.
This is the end.
I reach for her, pulling her to me and covering her lips with mine. I kiss her hard, drinking in the taste of her, the heady feeling of desire and acute want. When I release her, her breaths are quick and sharp, and her eyes are wet with tears.
Jesus.
“I’m sorry.” I start the engine, needing to put some space between us. “I had a great weekend too. Goodbye, Rachel.”
“Yeah,” I hear her say, but I don’t turn to look at her. She walks away, and I watch her go, hating her ex, and most of all, myself.
Chapter 17
You can’t give me what I want.
I wish I could stop obsessing about those words.
You can’t give me what I want.
What does she want that I can’t give her?
Because I’m damn sure whatever it is, I can do a lot better than the clown who left her crying in an elevator and pushed her straight into my arms.
At my apartment, I pour myself a drink, letting the soothing sounds of Mozart calm me as I observe the city through the living room windows.
You can’t give me what I want.
My phone rings. It’s Aidan.
“Just checking on you,” he says, sounding cheerful. “Haven’t spoken in a while. How was Europe?”
“It was okay,” I say with a sigh. “I mostly worked.”
“Do you ever stop?”
I snort. “You’re one to talk.”
I hear him chuckle. “Give Rachel my best.”
Rachel.
You can’t give me what I want.
I mutter something under my breath.
“What?” Aidan asks.
“Nothing,” I lie. “I’ll give her your best.”
There’s a pause on his side. “Ookay.”
I’m not usually the kind of person who needs to unburden about my love life, and I don’t plan to start now. “I was about to go to bed. Let’s talk tomorrow.”
I realize after the call that I didn’t ask him about his work on the play.
Too focused on your own misery, Landon.
Abandoning my half-finished drink, I undress and get into bed. In the silence of the apartment, I realize I never brought Rachel here after our first night together. It makes her absence from my life seem so much more final.
Leaving my bed, I walk over to the guest room where I first spent the night with her.
Memories of mind-blowing sex mingle with the lingering pain of her rejection, and I curse under my breath.
You can’t give me what I want.
I can give her pleasure, but obviously that’s not enough.
I can treat her with all the care and respect she deserves. I can put a fucking smile on her face every single day.
But all that won’t matter if she’s still in love with Weyland.
I stretch out across the bed, aching to make the memories real. It’s one thing if she’s in love with him, but if there’s any chance that she isn’t, well…I’ve never been a man who gives up easily. I want her, and I’m going to make her see I’m the one she wants to be with.
By the next morning, most of my confidence has evaporated. Joe drives me over to Rachel’s apartment. I wait in the car for her, counting the minutes till she emerges on her way to work.
I should go up, steal a few minutes with her in the privacy of her apartment, and apologize for my abruptness yesterday
Will she listen?
Will she want to listen?
I’ve never been so unsure of myself in my life.
I wait for almost half an hour before I see her come down the front steps.
She looks unhappy.
And I know it’s my fault.
Yesterday, I was too harsh, too abrupt, too impatient. I knew even before I first approached her with my proposition that she had an emotional connection to Weyland, yet I berated her for it as if I had an exclusive right to her emotions.
She reaches the sidewalk and stops when she sees my car. At the same time, I open the door and step out into the morning sun, watching as an array of emotions crosses her face.
Let’s forget about yesterday evening.
Let’s start all over again.
I take a step toward her. “Hello.”
At first, she doesn’t respond. Her eyes rake over me, and the raw emotions that were evident on her face before she saw me retreat behind an expressionless mask. “What are you doing here?” she asks in a level voice.
“I wanted to talk.”
She shakes her head, dismissive. “I’m late for work.”
That works for me. “I’ll take you to your office. We can talk in the car.”
She gives me a look like that’s the last thing she would ever consider. “No. Thanks.”
I only want to talk, to apologize. Surely she can give me that. “Rachel, why are you making this so hard?”
Something in my voice gets to her. With a resigned shrug, she walks past me and slides into the car.
I join her inside, and Joe drives toward her office. Her body is stiff and turned away from mine, as if she can’t even stand to look at me.
“You’re still going out with Weyland tonight?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I sound jealous and resentful. Not exactly the right opening for the apology she deserves.
She turns to look at me. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” She shakes her head and turns back to the window. “I don’t know,” she continues, answering my question. “I already told him I would.”
So she’s going. “What did he say to you at the Swanson Court, the day we met?”
She turns back to me, confused. “I don’t think that has anything to do with—”
“Please, Rachel.” I stop her. “I’m trying to understand your…relationship with him and why he keeps coming up between us.”
She flinches at my use of the word us, and my resolve falters. What if I’m wasting my time? It’s entirely possible that she really wants nothing to do with me.
“I don’t think it makes any difference…” She meets my gaze and sighs. “He told me he was engaged.”
He broke her heart.
“You were in love with him.”
She doesn’t reply.
“Tell me what happened between you two.”
Her brow furrows. “I met him when I went to work at Gilt. We started seeing each other, stopped after about two months, but we stayed friends.”
“Why did you stop seeing each other?”
“We didn’t want the same things.”
“You’re being deliberately vague.”
“I told him I was in love with him.” I see the hurt in her eyes just before she faces away from me again. “He didn’t feel the same way.”
And she stayed in love with him for two years after that.
She’ll always be his, Landon.
I can’t…won’t accept that.
“You told me you were completely over Weyland,” I push on. “Were you being honest?”
She pulls in a deep breath. “There’s really no point in talking about Jack.”
Except I need to know for sure how she feels.
“Are you still in love with him?”
For a long time, she says nothing, and it looks as if I have the answer I feared all along.
“No.” Her voice, when it comes, is a whisper. “I was never in love with him. For a while, I thought I was, but I was mistaken.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. She’s over him. She doesn’t love him. There’s no reason we can’t be together.
I lean my body close to hers. “Then why?”
She raises confused eyes to mine. “Why what?”
I take her hand in mine. She’s trembling and I can feel it. I feel shaky, too—hopeful.
I want you to be mine, Rachel.
“Why do you keep pushing me away?”
Her eyes roam my face, unfocused then decisive. “Because I don’t want this,” she says in a low whisper. “I don’t want to be with you. I meant it when I said you can’t give me what I want.”
The words are like a thunderclap in my head. An unfamiliar pain spreads in my insides. I release her hand, letting her go. The car inches forward, and as soon as we reach her building, she reaches for the door handle.
She can’t wait to leave.
“I…” Her voice falters. “Thanks for the ride.”
I let out a bitter chuckle that mirrors exactly how I feel inside. “I should thank you for making it clear to me, without any doubt, that I can’t always get what I want.”
She flinches at my words. Her green eyes are large in her beautiful face. One moment, they’re fixed on my face, almost as if she never wants to stop looking at me, and then without a word, she’s gone.
Chapter 18
There’s a copy of the latest Gilt Travel on my desk when I get to the office. I turn to Rachel’s feature about the Gold Dust and read it over and over. It’s not surprising to me how well she writes. I didn’t lie about reading her prior work.
Forget about her, Landon. She doesn’t want to be with you.
Still, I leave the office to make the trip to a florist, choosing a bright bouquet of purple lilies and yellow orchids then sending them with a note that simply says Great article.
I want her to see the flowers and think of me. I want her to know somewhere in the same city, I am thinking about her.
It’s almost pathetic.
You can’t give me what I want.
Let her go, Landon.
But I can’t. Not yet. I can’t.
I have dinner with a business associate, and after, I have a drink alone in my apartment. Everything seems so empty without Rachel. I’m unable to stop imagining her out with Weyland, and it makes my solitude even worse.
When I can’t bear it anymore, I call her phone, like a drunk-dialing ex-lover in a sad love song. I watch her name on the screen and listen to the electronic ringing on her side.
I just want to ask if she got the flowers.
I’m not calling to interrupt her date.
I just want to hear her voice.
Pathetic.
After two calls go straight to voicemail, all I can think about is her in bed with fucking Weyland.
I don’t plan to drive over to her place, but I find myself there, waiting in my car, feeling like a fool, not even sure what I’d say to her.
I park outside her building and notice that her bedroom window light is off.
Go home, Landon.
Don’t be a stalker.
She’s probably still with him.
Fucking Weyland.
It takes a few meditative breaths before I feel like I can drive back to my place. I’m about to pull into the street when a cab stops in front of the building and Rachel emerges, alone.
A group of guys walk past her, and my jaw tightens when one of them whistles in her direction. She ignores him and heads for her door.
Then she stops and looks across the street to where I’m parked, a small frown on her face.
I give her a moment to wonder before I step out of the car. She looks at me, only for a second or two, then turns on her heel and walks hurriedly toward the doors.
Go home, Landon.
I can’t.
“Rachel.”
She ignores me, but I catch up to her before she reaches the entrance to her building. Her eyes meet mine, searching for something, dark with an emotion I recognize. I’m not the only one who wishes things were different, but why is she pushing me away?
“For God’s sake, Rachel. Why are you running?”
Her chin goes up. “Maybe because you seem to be stalking me.”
Her tone is stern with reproach, and for some reason, it makes me smile.
Something tender flashes in her eyes, but it quickly disappears. “Landon,” she mumbles, “you should leave.”
“Why?”
She doesn’t reply.
No explanation then. “How was your date?” The words taste bitter on my tongue.
“You came all the way over here to ask me that?” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Or did you come to make sure I didn’t end up in Jack’s bed? That’s why you called earlier, isn’t it? To make sure even though I was with him, I wouldn’t forget about you. Because you’re what, jealous?”
I don’t bother to deny it. “Of course I am.”
I take a step closer and her eyes flutter closed. “Go away.”
“No.”
She makes an exasperated sound and reaches for the door. I hold it open for her, following her inside the small vestibule. She tries to unlock the inner door, but her hands are shaking. I reach for her hand and take the keys. I unlock the door and follow her into the lobby.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. “Not until you stop lying to me.”
She snatches her keys from my hand. “I don’t know what you want to hear,” she snaps, heading up the stairs. I follow behind. At the door to her apartment, she stops and turns to face me, watching me as I close the distance between us.
“I got your flowers,” she says.
It sounds like an olive branch, one I don’t hesitate to grasp. “Did you like them?”
She nods.
“I liked the article.”
She swallows. “I’m glad.”
We’re both silent.
“Landon…”
Whatever she plans to say, I don’t let her. I reach for her, pulling her to me with one hand on the small of her back. Hungrily, I cover her lips with mine.
She melts into me with a small moan, reminding me of every intimacy we’ve shared. Her fingers twine in my hair and her tongue tangles with mine.
She wants me.
She’s missed this as much as I have.
I brace one hand on the door, groaning when she grinds her hips against mine.
Jesus I want her.
Suddenly, she’s pushing away from me, tearing her mouth from mine with a low moan. Her chest rises and falls, and she steps as far away from me as the door behind her will allow.
“You should leave,” she whispers. “Please leave.”
“Why?” I’m beginning to feel like I’m being tossed around in an unfamiliar sea. I don’t understand what the hell is going on. She’s not in love with Weyland. She wants me. So, what’s the problem? “Rachel, you want this.”
She shakes her head, denying the truth I can see.
I don’t understand.
“Rachel.” I keep my voice calm and reasonable. “I want you, and I know you want me. I’m not going to walk away from this.” She doesn’t reply, and I run a hand through my hair, frustrated beyond words. “Just tell me what you want from me.”
She shakes her head. “You keep saying you want me, Landon—for what, exactly? Just sex? Indefinitely?”
“This means a lot more than sex and you know it.” She starts to shake her head again but I touch a finger to her cheek, stilling the movement. “As long as we both want each other this much, why does it have to end?”
She pulls in a shaky breath. “I don’t want you.”
I know she’s lying, but why?
“I already said I won’t go anywhere until you stop lying to me.” I search her face. “Rachel, this thing we have…”
“Landon,” she interrupts. “I don’t want a thing. I don’t.”
“So, you want something more serious? Some sort of commitment? A relationship?” I’ll take any arrangement that makes it so I can be with her. “Rachel, that’s fine. We can have that if it’s what you want, but it’s crazy to keep thinking of excuses why we shouldn’t be together.”
“A relationship?” She studies my face. “And that’s all?”
I’m being tossed around that unfamiliar sea again. I hold up my hands. “What else is there?”
She glares at me. “You’re willing to let me be a small part of your life, to go out with you once in a while and be seen with you. That’s what you call a relationship, isn’t it? Then when you’ve had enough of the sex—which is what this is really all about—that will be the end, won’t it?”
I stare at her, not even close to comprehending. “God! I don’t understand you. What the fuck do you want?”
“I can’t do this,” she says, her voice odd and shaky. “I can’t… Just go away, Landon. Just leave me alone.”
I’m more confused than I’ve ever been in my life, and the reason for my confusion looks as if I’m the one causing her pain.