ache. “Yes. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
His expression cracked, but she didn’t stay to see if it crumbled. She spun on her toe, making a straight line for the exit and hoping she could hold back the tears until she was alone in her car.
*
After Kenzie left, Scott dropped back into the chair, her words bouncing around in his skull, echoing with sincerity. Fuck, why did she have to do that? He was trying to forget how very much he wanted her, and she had to go and say those awful, kind words that made him want her even more, and still weren’t enough to convince him she felt the same.
It had devoured him to be so cold, but she was only interested in making professional amends—he couldn’t let himself believe otherwise, it already hurt too much. It was better this way. She was gone now, and he could begin what was already an agonizing process of getting over her. If he could.
Zach sat down too, a heavy sigh echoing through the room. “God you’re an ass sometimes.”
Scott glared at him. “I didn’t ask you.”
Zach shrugged. “Which is funny, because I didn’t ask to play middleman in some twisted kind of lovers’ spat. We don’t always get what we want.”
“That’s clever. Did you steal that off a Hallmark card?” Scott couldn’t keep the snide from his question. “Seriously? What was the point of even hiring her? Cartee completely turned it against me. That’s going to cost me a fortune.”
“Your girl did her job and she did it well, aside from a couple indiscretions. Don’t blame this on her.” Zach drummed his fingers on the desk, rolling a loose cigarette back and forth across his knuckles.
“My girl?” The term crawled under Scott’s skin, filling him with a despair he didn’t understand.
Zach’s expression didn’t shift. “You’re sure you want to take care of Cartee alone? Rae showed me the numbers. It’s going to kill you to buy him out.”
The clause they’d written into every investor’s agreement. The one that allowed them to buy the person out for a fixed percentage above their original investment in exchange for removing them from the board of directors. The insurance they’d built in to make sure they didn’t lose their company again. “I’m sure. This really is my fault. I won’t let you pay for that.”
Zach pursed his lips. “You really are a childish, spoiled brat. Even when you’re taking responsibility, you have to play the martyr to prove a point.”
Scott shrugged, wishing the words didn’t hurt so much. “Frequently. And?”
“You got what you wanted, and in the end you get to do it your way, regardless of the cost. She’s gone, you keep your job, and that painful irritation who calls himself Hank Cartee will be out of our lives.
“And you still look like someone shot your dog. You’re not going to let a silly little girl saying things you’ve already proven distract you from that victory are you?”
He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Scott knew what he wanted and for the first time in a long time, he suspected she was the one thing he couldn’t have. “Yeah, I probably am.”
“You love her.”
Love. Was that what this was? If so, it hurt like hell. And he never wanted to lose it. “Pretty sure, yeah.”
Zach’s mask slipped, a whisper of a smile leaking in. “You going after her?”
Not likely. “She doesn’t want me.”
“You’re a moron. Of course she wants you.”
She didn’t. She couldn’t. Not after everything that had happened between them. She hadn’t even called him personally to share her “revelation.” She’d gone to his business partner. Kept it public so—he could only assume—she wouldn’t have to face how he might feel personally.
*
Kenzie sat in her car staring at the roof, not able to bring herself to leave the parking garage. Tears stung her eyelids, and her throat was raw. She was never going to see him again. Not after the way he’d dismissed her moments earlier.
And it was her fault. So many things she never should have done. Taken the contract. Denied how attracted she was to him. Convinced herself she’d be happy hiding something as amazing from the world as what she felt for him.
Not that any of that mattered now. Not that she’d recognized it before it was too late. Still, she could do one more thing. She could at least take responsibility for her part in what had happened. If nothing else, she could stop pretending he was the only