Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,54
in your arms, because I can’t tell you how badly I’ve always wanted to be there.”
He looked over at me. “I want you there too.”
“But not enough,” I said, hearing the catch in my voice, even as I smiled. “And it’s okay. The truth is, Cole, I don’t want it enough either—not enough to invite the heartbreak that would follow. Because I won’t be able to just walk away from this and be okay. It will mean too much to me.”
He didn’t say anything. His chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths.
“It’s not your fault,” I said. “You can’t read my mind, and I’ve never been entirely honest about my feelings for you. So I’m sorry too, for leading you to believe I could be that girl who’s up for anything. It wasn’t fair.”
“Cheyenne.” He reached over and put a hand on my leg.
“I really thought I could be her tonight. I wanted to be her tonight. God knows I’ve been her every other night of my life.” My eyes blurred with tears. “The truth is, Cole, I’ve loved you hopelessly for so long that I don’t know any other way to do it. But being with you like that would give me hope, and that’s something I can’t afford right now.”
“Cheyenne, I—”
“No, don’t,” I said, sliding off the bed, away from his touch, his scent, his blue eyes looking at me with despair. I couldn’t bear to hear him explain why he couldn’t love me back. I’d always known. “Don’t say anything. Let’s just leave it be and do what we said, okay? Let’s be friends. My feelings will fade again.” Slipping my feet into my shoes, I heard myself laugh nervously. “They always do.”
He propped himself up on his elbows. “I don’t want you to go.”
I turned to him with a tearful smile. “I have to, Cole. I have to go to my room alone, where I will put myself in a timeout, curse myself for blowing my chance to sleep with you, and wallow in the humiliation of everything I’ve just confessed. But once I get over all that, I’m hoping to feel good about this.”
It took him a moment to reply. “I understand.”
“Thank you. Goodnight.” Aiming for a dignified exit, I headed for the door, but then turned around again. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you could just forget everything I said to you tonight and pretend like this never happened?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’ll never forget the things you said to me tonight.”
So much for dignity. Cheeks burning, I moved for the door again.
“Cheyenne, wait!” He got out of bed and darted past me, reaching the door first, flattening his back against it.
Yes, Cole. Beg me to stay. Give me hope. Say you want me—not just for tonight.
“Yes?” I held my breath.
“I want you to know . . .” He ran a hand over his jaw. “I want you to know that I understand how you feel. And I hope you know how much I care about you. There hasn’t been anyone since Trisha that I—that I want this way.”
But not enough, I thought again, the lump rising in my throat. Not enough.
“I’m sorry if I messed up our friendship by saying one thing and doing another,” he went on. “I won’t do it again.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, wondering how the hell I was going to get through tomorrow. “Okay.”
He opened the door for me, and I held my head high as I walked through it.
At the sound of it closing behind me, I burst into tears.
After a near sleepless night, I dragged my ass out of bed at eight the next morning and knocked on the door of the bridal suite fifteen minutes later.
Blair took one look at my puffy face and bloodshot eyes the next morning and gasped. “Oh my God. What happened to you?”
“Do you have coffee?” I croaked.
“Yes. Come in, no one else is here yet.” She shut the door behind me and hurried over to a table where coffee, tea, and breakfast had been set out for the female wedding party. The entire room was big and bright, with lots of white everywhere—white carpet on the dark wood floor, white sheers on the windows, two white sofas facing each other, three white salon chairs facing three white-framed mirrors on walls painted a soft gray. In a couple hours, a hair and makeup team would arrive—they’d have a hell of a job whipping my sorry