Thank God.
‘But sex is all I want, it’s all I can give. I like you, Grace. I think you’re... Fuck. I think you’re amazing. I am blown away by your determination, your grace, your courage, your strength, your brain—your mind is unbelievable. I love talking to you, laughing with you. I want to punch your fuckwit ex for what he did to you. I know it’s not just sex between us. But I’m no more...interested in a relationship than I was a week ago. And I’m sure as hell not any better suited to one.’
‘I think you’re being too hard on yourself,’ I say, desperate for him to relent. ‘I think you’d make an amazing partner. Boyfriend, fiancé, husband—whatever. I think you’re not your dad or your mum, and that you shouldn’t let your ex-wife define you. So your marriage ended. It was a mistake. Your brothers knew it; they tried to warm you. You learned the hard way. Are you going to insulate yourself from the likelihood of any happiness, going forward, because it carries with it the possibility of regret?’
‘Stop psychoanalysing me,’ he grunts, shaking his head. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’
‘Bullshit,’ I drawl. ‘You’re an open book to me now, Jagger. I’ve seen all your secrets and wants. I know you. You don’t get to wind back the time we’ve spent and act as if we’re two strangers.’
‘I’m not.’ He’s angry. His voice is loud. ‘I’m not trying to diminish a damned thing. I’ll give it to you—I’ll give it to you that these last few days have...defied every single one of my expectations. You have defied every one of my expectations. But that doesn’t change who I am and what I want in life.’
‘And you want to be alone?’
A muscle jerks in his cheek. ‘I want to be alone,’ he agrees after a beat too long.
‘Apart from one-night stands with women you’re never going to see again.’ God, the idea of that sickens me now. He’s mine. I can’t abide that notion.
‘Yes.’ He glares at me and, even though we’re not touching and a room full of acrimony separates us, I feel his racing heart as though each beat is causing reactions in the atmosphere. ‘Is that what you want me to say, Grace? That I’m going to go back to New York and fuck someone else? That I’m going to take some other woman to bed to forget you?’
I draw in a breath—it burns my lungs. Tears spring to my eyes and I see recognition cross his face, recognition that he’s gone too far. He swears and moves his strong, powerful legs, striding across the room and bundling me up, lifting me to his body, kissing me, tasting the tears in my mouth.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says against me, but I don’t know what he’s sorry for. That I fell in love with him despite every caution not to do so? Or because he was speaking the truth a second ago? Because his beautiful body is going to belong to someone else in a matter of days. Because I’m not losing him—it’s so much worse than that—I never really had him.
He kisses me as though both of our futures are depending on this kiss. His is a kiss of atonement and mine is one of dreadful acceptance. Of weary comprehension.
I fell in love with another man who doesn’t want me, but this is so much worse. Where Gareth and I made some kind of calm, rational sense, where I liked Gareth and cautiously discovered what I could about him before deciding I loved him, it wasn’t like that with Jagger.
This wasn’t a conscious decision. Rather, it stole upon me. He breathed into my body when I wasn’t watching, like a spell or a curse, and he’s become a part of me now. So that even when he leaves and I’m alone again I think he’ll always be a part of me.
But that won’t stop him from leaving.
I kiss him goodbye and then wrench my head away, putting space between us with a guttural cry.
‘This was so much more to me than sex.’ I say it because it’s true and because, no matter what happens next, I want him to understand that I truly fell for him, that my love is genuine. ‘I fell in love with you a little bit more every time we were together. Every movement of yours inside me, every kiss, every shared breath. I fell in love with you when you told me about your brothers and your parents and your ex-wife, about your life in New York and Brinkley.’ My voice cracks. ‘I fell in love with you while we dived in the reef, when you tried to teach me to play golf—badly. I fell in love with you when I was determined I wouldn’t, when I was absolutely certain I was done with love. At least for now. I fell in love with you because something about this, about us, is bigger than what either of us want. I fell in love with you because I had no choice.’
He stares at me for several long, painful seconds.
‘I think you love me, too,’ I surprise myself by saying, soft condemnation in my words. ‘I just think you’re either too stubborn or too afraid to admit it.’
Silence.
Heavy, painful, accusing silence.
‘You’re wrong.’ His expression shifts and I don’t know if he’s lying to himself or if I’m completely mistaken. ‘I think you’re amazing, but that’s not love.’
‘You say you don’t believe in love, so how do you know?’
‘Because I know it wouldn’t feel like this.’
I’m being sliced in two.
‘I’ve done all this before, Grace. I’ve looked into a woman’s eyes and smiled and told her I loved her, swore I’d love her for ever. In front of my friends, my brothers, everyone I know, I’ve pledged to be with her until death us do part. And it fell apart. I’ve done this. I’ve looked into a woman’s eyes as she told me she loved me, as she told me she’d always love me. And it was all a crock of bull. So don’t stand there and expect me to be jumping for joy because you’re saying you feel...that. For me. I don’t want it. I don’t want this. We had a deal, remember? Sex. Easy, no pain, no emotions. Sex.’
I remember. I remember even when it’s killing me.
Gareth walked away from me like I meant nothing, and Jagger’s telling me exactly the same thing.
I’m not enough to stay for. Not enough to even try. I feel his pain; of course I do. I feel his hurt, the fact he’s had his heart broken, his trust crushed. But I’m not Lorena and if he doesn’t see that, if he can’t see how different I am to her