can be who you want me to be. I think I need... I need more than what we have.”
I don’t think there’s any lingering hope fluttering inside me, but if there were, those words would kill it.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” I have to choke it out. I’m barely hanging on to the last threads of my control. “I know you need more. We both do. So I hope you’re able to... to find someone who can give you what you need.”
His head jerks to the side. He breathes loud and ragged for a minute. Then he takes a step forward. “Okay, baby. I understand. I’m so sorry about this mess. Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.” He reaches out to cup my cheek. “I’ll do it.”
He’s done everything I need. From the moment I met him. He’s been at my service. Getting to know me. Understand me. See beyond the surface. So he can predict what I might want.
But he’s done it mostly because it was his job to do it. And I know there was something real underlying it—something real grew from what should have been only professional—but it’s not real enough. Not for me.
And not for him either.
We both deserve more.
I shake my head and swallow over a sob. “I don’t need anything, Damian. You can go back to Giselle and finish your talk. You can forget about this whole mess. It’s really all right. I’m going home.”
“Baby—”
“I’m going home.”
I MAKE IT BACK TO THE condo before I really start crying. We left things dubious, but I’m sure we’ll have the rest of the discussion when Damian gets back. I know exactly how it will go.
He arrives home only ten minutes after me, which surprises me. I thought he’d stay away longer.
I’m huddled in a ball on the couch, but I straighten up as he comes toward me. I expect him to sit beside me, but he doesn’t. He pulls a big ottoman over directly in front of me and sits on it instead.
“Hi,” I say stupidly.
His face softens slightly. He looks so incredibly tired. The dark shadows under his eyes, the slight redness of his eyes, and the thick stubble on his chin are oddly wrenching. “Hi.”
I figure it’s the right time to say what I need to say. I messed things up between us. I was hoping for something that could never happen. But it’s not his fault, and it’s wrong for me to expect him to open up his life to me completely just because I did it for him.
I have the words now, and I need to speak them. I open my mouth to do just that.
“Let me say this first,” he murmurs, thick and soft.
Surprised, I nod mutely and wrap my arms around my stomach.
“The very first thing you told me was you wanted to avoid emotional messes, so I’m really sorry we ended up in one.”
He sounds so defeated that I can’t stay quiet. “It’s not your f—”
“Just let me finish.” He’s leaning toward me, meeting my eyes. But he shifts restlessly in a move that almost looks nervous. “It is my fault. I could have done a thousand things differently, and we wouldn’t have ended up here. But I told you the truth before. I need more than what we have. I’m... I’m sorry I can’t be who you want me to be.”
Oh God, this is torture. Agony. He knows exactly how I feel, and he feels bad about it. I hug my arms tighter and manage to hold myself together.
“I know we have a few weeks left, but I think it’s probably better to end this now. Before it gets any messier. I’ll ask Aurora to look into how to adjust for the—”
“Don’t you dare,” I grit out, my vision momentarily blurring.
“Okay.” He swallows hard. Looks down at the floor. “I am really sorry, Melody. For everything. For it ending like this.”
Melody. It hurts almost as much as the rest of what he’s saying.
I nod. I can’t speak. But I have to show him I understand and accept what he’s telling me.
He stands up. It looks like he’s going to reach out to touch me, but he doesn’t. Just murmurs, “I should have done better by you.”
He walks away, and I just sit there. What the hell is someone supposed to say to that? He’s being kind. He always has been. But he doesn’t want me the way I want him, and he’s made that