What am I supposed to say? It’s the truth. I have no idea where I stand with him anymore. I’ve never had to give it much thought. Being with Ransom was supposed to be easy, no strings. Hell, we were never even supposed to know each other’s names. Instead, it has left me so knotted up inside, I don’t know whether I like him, love him or am simply in love with the idea of him. My entire life has been tossed into the air, and all I keep seeing is big, fat question marks stamped on everything as it falls back down around my feet.
Ransom drops to his knees before me with a tortured look on his face. I instantly recoil inside, because that look comes with expectations that I can’t handle right now. I have to figure out how to handle me first.
“Out of everyone, I never would have expected you to be capable of doing that, but I’m also man enough to accept some of the blame.”
I am surprised by this. Ransom is a lot of things, but I never would have expected him to admit such a fault. “I’m the one who kissed another man.”
“You wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t given you reason to,” he contends. “I’ve been giving you mixed messages, I know that. The truth is, we never should have hooked up, and it’s not fair for me to ask you to hide us from everyone.” Stricken, he reaches out, his fingers touching my face. “Tell me to leave, and I will. If it makes things better for you, I’ll walk away right now, Josephine.”
Do I want him to go away? I try to picture never feeling his skin on mine again, never hearing his roughened voice in my ear after we’ve had sex, never knowing the look of true passion that I see in his eyes every time he looks at me.
My throat tightens and I shake my head. “I don’t want you to go.” The truth is there are a lot of things I would change between us. I would start with throwing out all this secrecy and telling everyone about us. I could do with a little less of the split personalities, too, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.
“But you don’t want me to stay, either.” It’s a statement, and I can’t help wondering what he saw in my face to make him reach that conclusion.
My lungs fill until my chest feels tight, and I release my breath on a heavy sigh. “I want things to change.”
His expression tightens and his hand falls away, leaving my cheek cold. “I can’t go public.”
“I know.” I sigh again. I don’t know whether it was the alcohol or the fact that I’ve been up for over twelve hours straight, but I feel drained. My whole life has been one enormous secret—from the stripping to him and other things that I can’t bring myself to think about—and I’m exhausted.
I continue, and though it breaks my heart, the words have to be said. “That’s the problem, Ransom. You can’t tell anyone, but I can’t continue to keep up this secrecy. It’s too much maintenance and it’s wearing thin. I’m wearing thin.”
“So that’s it? We’re done?” He’s upset, and I understand that, but I have to think of myself first. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices in my lifetime, and it’s time I take something back. I’m starting with my life. I won’t be held prisoner by someone who doesn’t think as highly of me as I do them.
“I need to be with someone who wants to tell the world about me,” I explain, hoping to smooth away some of the sting. “Not someone who is ashamed to be seen with me.”
“I’m not ashamed of you,” Ransom says through clenched teeth.
I tilt my head, my smile small and sad. “We have sex, Ransom. That’s all we do. We’ve never been out on a date, never kissed in public, never taken a drive together. None of the things real couples do.”
“We drove together once.”
“Three times and they don’t count,” I say, thinking of the time his car broke down and I dropped him at the hotel and other times when I was drunk. If I recall correctly, that first time he was meeting a “friend.” Most likely the same friend who showed up with him hours later at the club for a private dance. I admit, it’s something that still bothers me if I think on it too long.
“Your friend knows about me. My parents know about you. I asked you to come to dinner with me.” His silky voice has taken on a pleading tone, a last ditch effort to sway my decision, but it’s already been made.
I shake my head. Standing, I slip past him and walk to the front door. Opening it, I stand in the doorway and pass him a meaningful look. “I’m sorry, but it’s just not enough.”
He has this hateful look in his eyes, but it’s not directed at me. I think he hates himself, or maybe the situation. I know how he feels. I never wanted things to end between us, but here we are, standing in my doorway, and it’s over. Saying goodbye is a physical ache in my chest, but it has to be done. I see no other way.