Breaking Even(52)

She holds back tears as I walk out. Great. Now I’ve made another woman cry. Fuck my life.

***

BRIN

“It was stupid, and I don’t want to talk about it,” I say numbly, staring at the TV even though I have no idea what’s on the screen.

“When I said get some air, I didn’t mean for you to go see him.”

Just the thought of that girl getting ready to strip naked in his office makes me sick. He just sat there, watching me watch them. It was the ickiest experience of my life. My feet felt so heavy, and I still feel like the world’s biggest idiot.

“I didn’t mean to go see him, but then I got in the car, and it reminded me what a freaking amazing guy he is. Was. Now he’s slime.”

I scowl at the TV like it’s Rye, and Maggie sighs. “Well, is the car good at least?”

The glacier encasing my heart warms just a little at the thought of my car.

“It’s perfect—which is why I went over there to pay him. He spent way too much, and then I was crying, and I don’t cry. I never cry. I didn’t cry when John ruined my life and stuck me with all of his credit card bills. I didn’t cry when he divorced me. And he sure as hell never did anything sweet enough to make me cry. Rye... I’m so... I don’t get it!”

Maggie looks torn about what to say, but she doesn’t have to decide because the devil himself walks into our house without so much as a knock. My heart sputters the way my car used to when I look up to meet his serious face.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him without a glint of mischief in his eyes until the past two days. I hate it.

“Rye,” Maggie says uncomfortably, sitting up in the chair.

“Care if we have a second?” he asks her, but his eyes stay on me as his jaw tenses.

“Um... Yeah,” she says uncertainly, looking to me for permission to leave.

I just shrug as she slowly gets up and leaves us alone. I don’t think I can get any tenser.

“Brin, about earlier... with Jessica, that wasn’t—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt, sighing. “Please don’t. You don’t owe me any explanations. I showed up at your office unannounced. She didn’t see me. I didn’t think... It was stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t have to come over here and explain.”

I’ve never felt so pathetic.

He frowns as he comes to sit beside me. I wish he’d just leave.

“Brin, I don’t have a thing for Jessica. She works for me. That’s it.”

I just laugh bitterly. “Rye, go. I don’t even know why you’re here. Well, I do actually. You feel bad because you kissed me and then ran away. Then I got to witness a girl more your type go for gold in your office. You’re decent enough to feel bad about it, but you don’t have to. In fact, I’d like it if you’d just stop.”

“Brin, I—”

“Stop saying my name. Stop coming over here. Stop playing the pranks.” I stand up, turn my back on him, and ignore the fever going on behind my eyes. I will not cry. “Before you started sending me mixed signals, I felt just fine with the way I am. I don’t have to look like I just stepped off the runway in order to be happy. I don’t have to deal with the sleaze balls who are just looking for sex, because I’m not the one-night stand of their dreams. I’m perfectly happy. Or I was.

“You... you’re messing with my head, and that’s not okay. I don’t like someone making me feel as though I’m not good enough. I want to be appreciated the way I am. I know what I want, and games aren’t involved. So please go. I’ll crown you king of the war by default. You win. Consider us even.”

The first tear falls, and I silently curse it. I’ve never wanted to be one of the Sterling Shore perfect women until him. And I don’t like hating myself.

“You’re taking all of this out of context, Brin. I... Fuck!” he yells, slapping something.

I turn around to face him, but he’s suddenly right there, and just like last night, his lips are on mine, surprising me with an attack that I wasn’t prepared for. Instinctively, my fingers thread through hair instead of shoving him back like I need to do.

He pulls me tightly against his body, even though he has to bend over to kiss me. When his tongue sweeps in, I either whimper or moan—possibly both. A noise escapes him that almost sounds feral, and the kiss becomes even hungrier.

Why am I doing this to myself?

We fall to the couch, and I’m straddling him before my brain can process the shift. His hands are all over me—my back, my neck, my hair, back down to my ass. We’re a mess of pants, moans, wild hands, and ravenous needs.