“Because I was so stupid to think that maybe there was something between us, but my bad, I guess it isn’t worth even trying,” he spat.
It felt like he’d stabbed me in the chest, and I couldn’t figure out why.
“I hate passive aggressive as much as I hate manipulation.”
He abruptly stood, fire burning in his eyes. “You want to talk about manipulation? You. Because that is all you’ve done to me for weeks.”
“I have not.” Have I? It couldn’t be.
“But you have. You may not have realized that was what you were doing, but you were. Twice I’ve had you in my arms, twice I’ve thought that finally you would tell me yes to fucking dinner! Only to be shot down as not fucking good enough.” He sat back down and pulled his chair back into his desk. “So go file that and get out of my face, because I really don’t want to see you right now.”
I was in shock as I backed up and turned, holding the file close to my chest.
The pit in my stomach grew, and I stepped out of his office. Not good enough? Did he really think that? I was the one who wasn’t good enough. Me.
I was the problem. He was… perfect.
There was a pang in my chest just thinking that I might have hurt him, that because I wasn’t honest about my situation, I’d caused him pain. It was a feeling that deepened when I acknowledged that on some level, he cared about me. That was the only way he would be fazed. A hit to the ego wasn’t enough for the backlash I was receiving.
It was a hard hit. One that I took personally. I’d hurt him, and he was lashing out at me.
Over the past few weeks I’d gotten to know him, know his true personality, and accept that I was judging him by our first interactions. By not being honest I had unintentionally played with his feelings, emotions I didn’t even believe he had toward me.
After taking the file to Shannon, one of the in-house lawyers, I was welcoming officers of Worthington Exchange into the conference room. Once everyone was seated, Carthwright excused me from the meeting.
I retreated back to my desk, hating the unease I was feeling. But I just had to remind myself of one thing—it was better this way. If he hated me, then he couldn’t leave me.
But in a way, he already had. I’d pushed him away as hard as I could, and I was paying the price for not taking his feelings seriously. The cold infiltrated everything, and I found myself desperately missing his touch.
For the rest of the day, every time Thane looked at me there was a cool detachment, a stark contrast to the day before. He didn’t take my rejection well.
Neither did I.
All weekend long, that stone remained in my stomach.
We were halfway through Tuesday, or work-day three of the same attitude, when I realized I needed to inform him of my upcoming absence.
“Can I talk to you?” I asked as I stepped into his office.
He looked up and sat back in his chair. There was no expression on his face, his features blank. I wasn’t used to the blanket indifference to me. The emotions that were normally so strong between us, simmering under the surface, were extinguished. I swallowed hard, my chest clenching, knowing I was the reason for that look. I missed the devilish smirk, the fire in his eyes, and the way we interacted.
I missed him.
“I’ll be out on Friday,” I said. It was a date I’d cleared with Matt long ago, but I realized Thane didn’t know.
“I need you on Friday,” he said, then turned his attention back to the work in front of him, effectively dismissing me with just five words.
“I won’t be here,” I stressed. A tightness began to wrap itself around my chest.
He pushed his keyboard back and stared at me. “Why not?”
My teeth mashed together. His attitude told me he was upset, but didn’t he realize his behavior was hurting me? Maybe he wanted that, to punish me in another way for shutting him down.
All I wanted was to go back to how we were a week before, because every moment I was close to him had become torture.
“I’m taking a personal day, and that’s all you need to know.” I turned to walk away.
“Roe, wait.”
I snapped back around. “You can’t force me to tell you because I don’t have to. I’ll do what I can by the time I leave on Thursday, and then I’ll see you on Monday.”
He just stared at me and I turned to leave, settling back down in my chair.
A tear slipped down my cheek. Why did it hurt so much?
The last week and a half was complete shit. It started off fantastically between her thighs, and a minute later it fell apart.
I couldn’t figure out why Roe was so adamant about Friday. She refused to tell me why, but when I looked at the calendar, the date hit me—September 11th.
I glanced at the door, to the profile of her face as she worked. Did she lose someone when the towers went down?
If she did, I would feel like a complete and total ass, earning the name in her phone.
I hated the feeling in my chest every time I even thought about her. The frustration and anger. I knew I just needed to try harder, but I also knew I couldn’t make her go out with me, let alone like me.
Maybe her change in attitude had to do with Friday. Maybe I needed to get over thinking everything was about me—a hard thing to do when all my thoughts were on her. Remembering our lunch date and how well that went, how well we fit together.
Then the smack-down of cold, hard rejection that stung and resonated for days.
The first time she declined a date, her rationale was sound, though I knew there was something else. All the secrets that I wanted to know that hung around.
How was I supposed to make her mine if she kept slamming the proverbial door in my face? Shutting me down right after proving she wanted me was a hard blow.
Then again, I wasn’t being very receptive. Processing these feelings that I’d never had before was proving more difficult than I believed.
For the next two days, I tried to tamp down the desire to get back to talking to her like I used to. To get back to the relationship we had been developing. My problem was that I’d never been in such a situation and I didn’t know how to proceed. As much as I wanted to go after her relentlessly until she gave in, I had a feeling that would just push her further away.
“Where’s Roe?” James asked from my doorway.
He’d barely stepped into my office when I laid into him. “Does she have a boyfriend?”
James froze at my sudden outburst, his brow furrowed. “I told you no.”
“Then why doesn’t she want to go out with me?”
His muscles relaxed, and he sat down in one of the chairs opposite my desk. “I can’t tell you that.”
“That’s not an ‘I don’t know,’ James.”
He shrugged. “Roe has been through a lot lately, and that’s all I can tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because she trusts me, and if you want her to trust you, you’re going to have to wait until she’s ready. If you keep harping on it, you’ll just push her away.”
I threw my hands up in frustration. “I already have! And now I don’t know how to talk to her anymore. It’s fucking frustrating as hell.”