"So you can think? Think about what?"
She looked at him calmly. "Maybe I'm going to think about the last ten years. Because they sure as hell happened for me."
"Violet, you know I didn't mean it like that-"
"Actually, Jonathan, I don't know that." Her voice was ice. "I do know I made a mistake ten years ago when I fell into your bed, got into trouble, and expected you to come rescue me. That rescue never came and I had to learn the hard way that you can't depend on anyone but yourself. And here I am, ten years later, back in the same position I found myself in before. And I'm not very proud of that."
Jonathan's face had gone stark. "Violet," he breathed. "I love you. That hasn't changed-"
Softly, she patted him on the chest. "You might not have changed, Jonathan, but I have. And now I need time to think."
She turned to the door and opened it, only to find Jonathan's hand on her arm. "Violet. Please don't go." There was a wealth of pain in his voice. "What I said, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"
"I know," she said. "I know you didn't mean it harshly. But it still stands-you don't mind forgetting the last ten years, and I do. I can't go back to that girl I was. And I need you to want the woman I am."
"I do-"
She gave him a soft, sweet smile. "And I need to see if I still want the same things I did ten years ago." She pulled her hand from his chest. "I need to think, Jonathan. Just let me be for a bit, all right?"
And Violet turned and left, not entirely sure if she was pleased or relieved-or disappointed-that he didn't follow her out.
-
It's like the last ten years didn't happen.
It's just a bad memory now.
Those two lines played in Violet's mind over and over again, like a bad recording stuck on a loop. She lay flat on her back on her bed all afternoon, unmoving and staring at the ceiling as she thought.
She thought about Jonathan-the Jonathan of the past, and the Jonathan of the present. She thought about her father and his manipulative games. She thought about the baby she'd lost ten years ago. She thought about her job back in Detroit, her students, her friends, and her colleagues there.
Jonathan wanted to pretend like the past just didn't happen, and she couldn't do that. And it hurt to think that he'd even suggest such a thing. Mistakes had happened, and she'd learned from them, grown from them. Grew smarter, stronger, tougher. She'd hurt, she'd cried, and she'd learned.
She couldn't go back to the girl she was ten years ago, and she didn't want to.
And for Jonathan to ask her to do that wounded her soul.
He didn't know her at all if he said that to her. Then again, he hadn't gone through the pain of loss that she had. She'd grieved both a relationship and a baby. His words made her wonder if he'd ever really felt as if he'd lost her, or if he'd temporarily written her off.
And now that they'd spent a few weeks together, he expected her to just jump back into bed with him and into his life as if no time had passed?
To be fair, she was the idiot crawling all over his bed, so she wasn't blameless. Even though she loved being with Jonathan again, sexually, she still didn't know how she felt about that gap in their relationship. She didn't know if she could ever get past that. The sex was great, but what was sex without love? Jonathan said he loved her, but . . . she didn't know.
She just didn't know anything anymore.
FOURTEEN
After agonizing for hours, Violet made up her mind.
She quietly packed her bags and dressed for a flight home. She called in a ticket at the airport, arranged for a taxi, and when she could put it off no longer, she headed down the hall for Jonathan's room.
Her heart ached and felt like a stone in her breast. Just this morning, she'd been happy, so incredibly, stupidly happy. But that happiness was exceedingly fragile; it had only taken one offhand comment from Jonathan for her to realize just how much they didn't know about each other.
And she was too responsible now to plunge headlong into another bad relationship that would only leave her aching and empty again. Better to cut her losses now, while she still could. If she got in any deeper, she might not be able to stand it.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, Violet clutched her purse close and knocked at Jonathan's hotel room door. She heard him bound across the room and the door swung open. Jonathan stood there, his shirt rumpled, his hair a mess, and his face looking tired and aged, despite the fact she'd seen him only a few hours ago.
"Violet," he murmured, and held the door open wider. "Come in."
"Actually," she said softly, "I can't." Her heart ached and tears threatened. "I came to tell you good-bye."
"No," he breathed. His eyes narrowed, grew hard. "Violet, no. Don't do this to me." He reached for her as if he wanted to hold her, and then drew back, as if sensing she would pull away. "Violet, please. Let's talk about this-"