Romancing My Love(36)

“You’re looking at me with probably the same look you always have, but I see something so different. You’ve been kissing me with all the tenderness and all the love a woman could ask for, and I can’t shake the feeling that it’s because of everything that’s come out. It’s stupid, and I realize that, but, Pierce, even if you can get past this, I need to be able to get past it, too.”

“I’m past it, Bec. You lived in your car. I get it.” He stared into her eyes. “What do you need to get past? You’re no longer in that car. You’ve got two places to live.”

He wasn’t hiding a damn thing. Not one single emotion. It was all right there on his face—he loves me—but damn it, she still saw pity.

“Hard times call for drastic measures. You did what you had to do, and keeping it from me was just what you felt was right. I hope that you know now that there’s nothing you can’t trust me with, but I don’t think of you any differently than I did before I knew. What you see in my eyes is love, Rebecca, plain and simple.”

“That’s just it, Pierce. You can tell me all the right things, but it isn’t changing what I see and what I hear. I know this is my issue, not yours. I love you so much. God, I never thought—never dared dream—that I’d ever love someone, or be loved by someone, as much as I love you. And yet here we are. My mom’s pictures are in your house, my clothes are in your closet, and you? You’ve taken up residence in my heart and there’s no evicting you.”

That earned her a smile that made her vision even cloudier.

“What are you really afraid of?” Pierce kissed the back of her hand.

“Nothing.” It was a knee-jerk response. She was afraid of plenty of things. Not being able to make her life happen the way she wanted it and being looked at like a charity case fought for the top of the list. Maybe they weren’t normal fears for a woman her age, but they were hers, and she couldn’t do a damn thing to make them go away. She had other fears, too. Like right now, she was afraid that walking out the door might change things forever with Pierce, but staying there and not working the kinks out in her own mind might do more harm than a night or two apart could ever do.

This was one of those times when she wished she had her mother to talk to. She didn’t allow her mind to go down that lonely path often. Rebecca had become an expert at compartmentalizing her feelings, and the only way to keep herself from hurting too much was to keep those wish-my-mom-was-here moments in a compartment called Don’t Go There.

She went there.

She couldn’t help it.

Pierce was so deeply embedded in her heart—in her every breath. He was nestled up against the memory of her mother. She closed her eyes against fresh tears and felt his arms gather her close again. She breathed him in, feeling safe and loved—and like she needed to clear her stupid head before she ruined everything.

“Babe,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Stay at your place if you need to. Do you want me to drive you over?”

She shook her head and gripped his shirt so tightly she thought it might rip, but she couldn’t let go.

He kissed the top of her head; then he pressed his big, safe hands to her cheeks and wiped her tears with his thumbs.

“Hate me if you must, but I wish I could fix whatever’s making you so sad.”

She laughed through her tears. He lowered his lips to hers, and her salty tears mixed with their kisses. She tried to kiss her heartache away, but it just made her feel like there was a deep well traveling down the center of her body and boring an ugly hole. She pushed away, breathing hard at the thought.

“You know I love you, right?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Say it. Please. I need to know that you know I’m not walking out that door to break us up. I’m doing it to keep us together.” She knew she was overreacting. She had a feeling in her gut that her loathing of pity was a mask for something else, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what—and she knew she needed to before it ruined everything good in her life.

He wiped her tears again, and the edges of his lips curved, just a little, like his smile was afraid to come forth. “I know you love me, Rebecca. But don’t ask me to pretend that I don’t want to beg you to stay. I can’t do that any more than I can pretend that I don’t want to pay off your debt, pay for your classes, and set you up with a job you’re worthy of, where you can learn and grow and make all your dreams come true.” He pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “All I can do is love you and trust that you know what you need, and hope that one day you’ll find what you need right here by my side.”





PIERCE PACED HIS driveway long after Rebecca’s taillights disappeared. He was trying like hell to be understanding, but damn it, this sucked—and it fucking hurt. What was he supposed to do now? He was a man with the means to do just about anything, except look at the woman he loved in a way that showed her how much he loved her and couldn’t be misinterpreted as pity.

He didn’t pity her.

Damn it. He was sick of having his hands tied. Rebecca needed him to love her the way she deserved to be loved. He respected her pride—maybe too damn much—but didn’t she have to respect his, too?

There was only one thing he could do, because there was no fucking way he was going to let their relationship hang in the wings while he was in LA.

He went inside and set up the calendar Rebecca had picked out for him, and then he wrote the things he planned for the next few days and set an early alarm on his phone. If he could give his all to his business, he could give more than that to Rebecca—in ways she couldn’t help but love.

He hoped.

Damn, did he hope.





Chapter Twenty-Three


REBECCA DRAGGED HERSELF out of bed Sunday morning with puffy bags under her eyes from crying most of the night and an ache in the center of her chest that felt like it had taken up residence. Exercising was the last thing she wanted to do, but she’d been here before—too overwrought to move. She knew that she could go down with the ship or right its course, and if she could make it through losing her mother, she could make it through pulling her head out of her ass and getting around her stubborn force field against feeling pitied. Pitied. She couldn’t escape the feeling of a demon much bigger than pity gnawing at her insides and clawing to get out—and buried too deep for her to grasp and figure out.

She forced herself to get out of bed, and she went into the kitchen and made coffee. While it brewed, she sat at the table and rested her head on her arms, struggling to try and understand what she was really feeling.

“I thought I heard you come in last night.” Henry poured two mugs of coffee and placed one in front of Rebecca. “It’s only five thirty. What are you doing up?”

“Going to the gym if I can convince my body to move.”

“Mm. Bad night?” Henry sipped his coffee. His hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a blue robe with a white T-shirt and a pair of blue plaid pajama pants beneath.

“Not really a bad night. I think I just have a bad head.” She sipped her coffee and grimaced at the pungent taste.

Henry set his mug down on the table. “Nah, you have a fine head. Want to talk about it?”

“No thanks, Henry. My head really isn’t fine right now.”

“Getting it out of your head might help.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Just offering.”

Rebecca sighed.

“It’s okay, but I’m here if you want to talk.”

Henry retrieved the newspaper from the porch and came back into the kitchen. He must have picked up his reading glasses from the living room, because the thin wire frames were now perched on his nose as he sat down and opened the newspaper to the Classifieds section.

“Are you going to call Chiara?” Rebecca asked.

“Already have. I left her a message right after Pierce gave me her number. She called back yesterday.” He lowered the newspaper. “I couldn’t believe it. On a Saturday. I guess when she heard I was referred by Pierce Braden, it put a jump in her step.”

“Maybe.” His name puts a jump in my heart.

“I have an interview with her tomorrow. She said they don’t have anything now, but they’re working on an acquisition, and if it comes through and my references pan out, yada yada.” He rolled his eyes. “Then they’ll need to hire in the accounting department. So I’m going in to get the ball rolling.”

“That’s great, Henry. I hope that comes through for you.” She checked the time. “I better get to the gym.”

Henry reached for her hand as she passed his chair on her way to the sink with her mug. “Rebecca, you have a good head on your shoulders. It’s when your heart and head begin to war that you have to worry.”

She smiled, but it was a halfhearted smile at best. “My heart and head want the same things. I think the problem is that my head is stuck in survival mode, and my heart is ready to kick into first gear.”

He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Sweetheart, healing takes time. You should honor your head and your heart so they don’t both rebel.”

Rebecca washed her mug, trying to figure out what that meant—or how she could even do such a thing.