Big Man for Christmas - Penny Wylder Page 0,37
I mean.”
I put down my beer and pull her close to me again. “It could be your kitchen.” The words are soft. She still smells like sex and hay and that sweet scent that goes deep and is entirely her. “You could stay.”
Carley pushes me away gently. There’s regret on her face and in her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything.
“You miss it here, Carley. You miss the people. I saw it today when you were talking to everyone. This place brings you joy.”
She’s looking at the pan on the stove. “My life is in Chicago.”
“What do you do there that’s so unique it’s worth your happiness? Go to the big museums on the weekends? See a show? Go out to the movies every night of the week?”
She swallows. “I have a job. A few friends. And most of all, I have privacy. I can go to the store without getting asked about how I broke my foot when someone saw me stub my toe and blow it out of proportion.”
“And you like that?”
“Maybe I do,” her voice is frustrated. “Maybe there’s something nice about just a little bit of anonymity. Maybe I like being in a place where no one tells me what to do or how to think or who I can spend time with.”
“Except for Tyler.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I shouldn’t have brought him up. He’s caused her enough pain, and that’s not her fault.
The hurt in her eyes isn’t worth the jab. “That’s not fair,” she says quietly. “I love—loved him. And we were happy for a while. I thought he loved me.”
“I love you,” I say.
The admission cracks through the air like lightning. We’re both silent, no sound but the hiss of food cooking and the soft music. Carley is staring at me, lips parted, her eyes wide in disbelief.
“I love you,” I say again. “Forever. I’ve loved you since we were both in seventh grade. I never wanted to admit it, but I did. Maybe longer than that. And it’s not going to change. I don’t—” I step closer and stop. “I don’t think I could ever love someone else, Carley. Not the way I love you.”
She’s still just staring, and for once, I can’t tell what she’s thinking.
“I’m asking you, not telling you or commanding you. I’m just asking. Please stay with me.” My voice nearly breaks, and I wrap my arms around her. “Love me back.”
Carley rests in my arms for a moment. She’s so warm and fits against me so well that it makes me ache. But then she gently slips out of my arms again. “This needs to be stirred.”
She’s facing away from me now. Focusing entirely on the food on the stove. But that’s not an answer. “I’ll go with you,” I tell her.
“No. You love Elgin,” she says. “You’d be miserable in Chicago.”
“I love you more than I could ever love this town, Carley. I’ll be miserable when you leave. I have been miserable here without you and just didn’t have the words for it.”
Turning to me, she puts down the spatula she’s stirring with. “You’re just lonely now that your parents are gone.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true, Casey,” she sighs. “I’m the one that got away. A novelty. I’m a brand new shiny thing along with an old flame tied up into one and that makes me something irresistible. You only think that you love me. But you don’t. You’ll get tired of me, and then you’ll be stuck with me and I’ll be trapped again. The whole fucking valley will be gossiping about our failed marriage in two years, and for the rest of my life stuck in this town I’ll get those looks. And you can’t tell me that you don’t know exactly which ones I’m talking about either.
“So no, thank you. Let’s just let this be what it is. Amazing, hot sex between two consenting adults.”
I think my heart is cracking in two. This might be worse than her avoiding me. At least then I had the opportunity to wonder what I had done or if I could have done something differently. Not be dismissed completely when I’m laying my heart on the line. “Is that really all this is?”
There’s no mistaking the sadness—the grief—in her voice. “It’s all it can be.”
“Then I’ll take it.” I feel numb inside, but I’m not going to waste time. I do love this woman, and I’d rather have