She shook her head. “No, why would any of that matter to—”
“Because I don’t give a shit about my reputation or the damn job. All I want is you.”
The words echoed through her torn-apart townhouse, everything she wanted to hear—and he might even mean it now. But he wouldn’t always. He’d regret his words one day, and Marianne refused to be the cause of his regret. When the time arrived, and he looked at her and wished he’d made a different choice, it would kill her. “Nick, I think you need to leave.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “According to our agreement, you owe me six weeks. I’ve got five more, and you are coming home with me tonight.”
Home. More than anything she wanted to go home with Nick. She wanted to sneak up onto the rooftop and make love with him under the stars and forget how her choice to jump out of his birthday cake and into his life could cost him everything she knew he wanted. But she’d weighed the pros and cons and faced the truth: ending it now meant his dream could still come true.
The acknowledgment shattered her, and she felt her body tremble in protest. Don’t do it. But she ignored the anxious flutter in her stomach. A clean break was best. Her heart banged out a last, desperate plea for safety. Do. Not. Do. It.#p#分页标题#e#
“I’m sorry, Nick, but I want out. Not five weeks from now. Now.” Marianne drew in a shaky breath. “Tonight.”
“Tonight.” Nick held his arms out wide, the daisies hanging in mid-air. “That’s it? You say you’re out and it’s over?”
She tilted her chin in a defensive gesture. “I don’t remember signing a contract.”
“A contract? Jesus, I offered to draw something up, but you trusted me to be a man of my word.” He barked out a laugh. “Guess I know why now.”
Marianne heard the resentment in his voice and closed her eyes to edge back tears. When she opened them, he was still standing there, outwardly devastated, but impeccably controlled. The truth of what she’d done hit her hard. He believed her, and his distant, pained expression revealed another, even more difficult, truth. He’d never expected better. A stab of pain shot through her chest as the realization shattered her heart, tearing open old wounds so completely that she knew they’d never heal. She’d never recover from Nick Wright. And that was the most painful truth of all.
Marianne drew in one last shaky breath. “I’m sorry. But this deal is not going to work.”
Nick remained frozen, and the distance between them filled with the kind of chill normally reserved for the worst days of a New York winter. Despite the spring blooms in his hand, a shiver raced down her spine. His face was etched in stone. And she knew it was over.
“These are for you.” And then he turned on his heel, tossed the rain-splattered flowers onto the dusty, plastic-covered table, and walked out of her life for good.
Chapter Sixteen
“Always keep promises.”
—mantelligence.com
Nick had never spent a sleepless night in his life.
Until tonight.
He sank back against the leather cushions. Guess he’d been right all along—commitment was for suckers. Marianne was gone. He’d been crazy to think their relationship was real, that it was different from any other he’d experienced. Relationships had never worked for him, so why had he expected more from her? Because she’d charmed him on his birthday by popping out of a damned cake? How insane was that?
Plain and simple—he’d been taken for a ride, and it was nuts to believe anything else. People left. That’s what they did. Hell, everybody but his sister had left him in some way, and he’d dealt with it. So why was he sitting here cuddling up with the classic movie channel, missing his fiancée, believing he didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle? Why did he still think Marianne would be different? Because he did.
He clicked up the volume on the television to keep from dwelling on the way she’d filled the place with her romance novels and her cardigans. The way she’d captivated him with her intelligence and her trademark moves, her glasses and those killer legs.
His place wasn’t the same without that damned woman in it. Worse, it might never be the same. The rooftop, the office, hell, the freaking shower. Marianne had breathed soul into the place. He muted the television and tossed the remote onto the couch. So much for his damned rules and his foolproof six-week plan. No back-to-back dates—out the window. No sleepovers—obviously he’d made a joke of that one. Thank God it wasn’t football season or he’d be turning in his man card. He slunk deeper into the couch.