“But—”
“You can leave.” He starts to turn away.
“No! I have to tell you something.”
“I think you made your point with the pot.”
I ignore him. “I should’ve told you before, but I was too afraid.”
He finally swivels his head my way, genuine surprise in his gaze. “What do you have to fear?”
“When…” I lick my dry lips. “When I learned about the deal…I was devastated. I always felt like what we had was too good to be true.”
Something like pain crosses his expression. “It was too good to be true,” he agrees, his voice soft.
I shake my head. “It’s more than that, Lucas.”
He waits, neither encouraging nor discouraging me. But his gaze is so cold, I feel like my organs are freezing one by one.
If I don’t tell him how I really feel about him, this is over. But if I tell him and he turns away…
The strange nightmare I had in Charlottesville floods my mind. I can’t draw in any air—it’s as though there’s a big fist clenched around my neck. The cityscape behind him, Lucas is as brilliant and radiant as in my dream.
What if he rejects me? What if he knows, with that unerring instinct that well-cultured and moneyed people have, that I’m not worth it? That I’m good enough for some temporary fun, but nothing else?
My heart thunders, and I can’t get the words out.
Suddenly he shakes his head. “You should go. I have plans for the day.”
He’s going to marry Faye. If I let him go like this… Oh my God. My legs are shaking, and cold sweat mists my spine. “I was in love with you.”
The words come out in a barely audible whisper, but his entire demeanor hardens. The lines on his face are harsher, colder and more aloof. My mouth is so dry, my lips and tongue feel like dead leaves.
“Then why did you say it was over? Why did you call me toxic?” His voice has no inflection. Just a terrifying calm…and something else I can’t process at the moment.
“Because…” I’m jittery all over. I’ve never been this nervous in my life. “I never wanted to be in love with you. I was afraid.”
“Bullshit. I told you I loved you. I said it first.”
“I didn’t think you meant it.”
His hands clench into fists. “Why are you telling me this now?” His jaw flexes. “Is this some kind of game? Didn’t I give you enough money?”
“I never wanted your money!”
I’m shaking so hard I can’t think or speak. The right words all disappear from my mind when faced with his implacable façade. I blindly reach for something to steady myself and grasp the back of an armchair. My knuckles whiten, and I start to lose the feeling in my hand.
Start at the beginning. It’s always easier that way.
“I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by being here. Maybe I’m making a mistake. I’ve been miserable without you, even though I told myself I was better off on my own. Then I saw you kiss Faye, and it was like somebody took a sledgehammer to my heart. It still feels that way every time I think about it. Then your sister told me I was the one at fault. Because I didn’t fight for you.” I close my eyes, hoping it’ll help me focus. It doesn’t work that well, but at least I can block out Lucas’s impassive face. “I never fought for what I wanted because I never found anything—or anyone—I wanted badly enough. Then when I found you, I couldn’t bring myself to fight because I was certain I’d never be allowed to keep the prize. You’re so perfect, so…everything. Why would you be with someone like me?”
Silence stretches, and I open my eyes, unable to bear the suspense. Lucas is studying me with the oddest expression on his face.
“Why not? What’s wrong with you?” he asks, his voice hushed.
My throat closes. I should’ve known he wasn’t going to let the past go so easily. I should’ve known I cut him too deeply, that he’d want to see me bleed. “I’ll go. Sorry I interrupted your day.”
I hardly take a step before his hand closes around my wrist. “No, you can’t leave like this. Answer the question—what is wrong with you?”