Love Triangle Six Books of Torn Desire - Willow Winters Page 0,446

blew me off for dinner…a dinner I was looking forward to, considering how little time we seem to spend with each other these days.”

He blinks, averting his eyes. “I told you. I had to work late.”

“That is what you said.” I lean into him, my proximity forcing his eyes back to mine. “After you canceled on me… I don’t know.” I throw up my hands in frustration. “I got this crazy notion in my head to surprise you at work. If you couldn’t go out, I figured I could at least bring food to you. So imagine my surprise when I learned you hadn’t been in the office since lunch.” I press my lips into a tight line, my heart shrinking in my chest. “Care to tell me the name of whatever bimbo I heard in the background when you called?” I barely manage to choke out.

He keeps staring at me, a deer in the headlights, his mouth agape. I can sense the wheels turning, as if he’s wracking his brain to come up with some excuse. But now that I’ve caught him in his lie, nothing can excuse his behavior. I should be grateful I learned the truth before giving my life to someone who would lie to me so recklessly, so carelessly. But I’m not. His lie makes me feel like a failure, like I’m not worth the truth. Like every other man has made me feel.

“So that’s why I didn’t show up today. And you know what? I’m done showing up. I’m…done. I deserve to be someone’s priority, not just something else they have to deal with. I refuse to be an item on a to-do list.” I spin around and retrieve my keys from my purse, inserting them into the doorknob.

Just as I open the door, Wes says, “Her name’s Christy. She’s a realtor the company works with on commercial plots.”

I glance over my shoulder. “Then I suppose your mother will see that as a step up from a state employee from a blue-collar family.”

“No. That’s not what I mean.” He grabs my arm, preventing me from hiding away inside my house. “The reason I lied to you, the reason I haven’t been around much this week, is because I’ve been driving all over the greater Boston area looking for the perfect place for us.”

I arch an eyebrow. “For us?”

“Yes.” He releases his grasp on me and withdraws his phone from his pocket. After typing on it, he holds it out for me. I see an aerial view of a large parcel of land. “That’s four acres in Wellesley for us to build our dream house.”

“Our dream house?” I swallow through the tightness in my throat, my eyes glued to the image of the wooded area with a lake.

“I’ve searched everywhere for a house like the one you’d want.”

“How do you know what house I’d want?” I press, still unsure if I should believe him.

“Because I listen to you, Brooklyn,” he insists, his eyes intense. “You love where you grew up but wish you had more room to run around as a kid. You want a kitchen with a farmhouse sink overlooking the back yard, a large island, distressed white cabinets, and a wine cellar. The décor should be rustic chic, lots of metal and reclaimed wood. The master bedroom should be separate from the rest of the house, a private recluse, somewhere you can relax and unwind after a stressful day of saving the world, one abused kid at a time.”

With each word, my guilt for ditching him today increases. There’s a thickness in my throat as my stiff posture loosens, my shoulders drooping.

Noticing my anger waning, he steps toward me, his hand finding mine. He runs his fingers across my knuckles, the gesture soothing. “You want your own private study with built-in bookshelves, a large wrap-around porch, and a big tree in the front yard with a swing, like you had growing up.”

My lips part as I stare at him, overwhelmed. “How did you know all that?”

“I told you, Brooklyn. I listen. Every word that has ever come out of that beautiful mouth has been permanently etched in my mind. Regardless of how trivial you may think they were, there’s no such thing when it comes to you.”

“But I never spoke about what I imagined for my dream house…”

“You didn’t have to. How many times have you forced me to watch home improvement shows?”

I blush, smiling as I swallow my tears. But they’re no