Chapter Twenty-Six
Savannah
I don’t know why I say it because I told myself for the past four hours that I was not going to bring it up. I was not going to let the hurt of him not wanting to be with me affect anything. He married me because he had to, not because he wanted to, the voice chants over and over in my head. The thought cuts me right through the heart, and no matter how many times I’m blinking away the tears, they fall anyway. “It’s a rough day when your husband can’t stand your touch and runs off to shower.” I watch his eyes and then see his mouth hang open as I put my cup of coffee beside me. “There is a certain look we have to give the public.” I start to say my speech that I also spent the night thinking of. “So in public, we can be all lovey-dovey, but when we are behind closed doors, it’s just Beau and Savannah, best friends.” The sting of the words are so much more when they are out of my mouth and not just in my head.
“What the fuck?” he says, putting his own coffee cup beside him. “What did you just say?” I look at him as he stands there, his shorts low on his hips and his chest perfect and chiseled. His black hair falls across his forehead, and his beauty makes my heart hurt.
“I just stated the obvious,” I say, not even caring anymore. “I obviously wanted to.”
“You wanted to what?” His voice comes out in almost a growl. “You wanted to get so shit-faced so you could muster up being with me?” His words shock me, and if I wasn’t leaning on the island, I would have stumbled back.
“What?” I whisper.
“You drank all night.” He points at me. “All night, you had to drink in order to actually kiss me.”
“Me?” I say, pointing at my chest. “You think I drank all night because of that?” My head is spinning as I take in his words.
“Well, you start drinking, and then all of a sudden, you can touch me and kiss me,” he says, looking out the window and then looking back at me with hurt in his eyes. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see what was happening.”
“For your information,” I say, my voice going just a touch louder. “I was drinking to muster up the courage to tell you all the things I wanted to tell you.” I almost stomp my foot like a child having a tantrum. I don’t give him a chance to say anything. I waited too long for this moment to back down now. “I sat there and asked you if you have ever been in love with someone,” I remind him. “I know I asked the question, but I wasn’t ready for the answer.”
“Oh, well, it’s better than a non-answer,” he throws back in my face. “You didn’t even answer the question.”
“You’re an asshole!” I shout. “I didn’t answer the question because there was a fucking lump stuck in my throat.” A tear escapes me now, and I brush it away with a vengeance. “I didn’t answer the question because I didn’t want to admit that I’ve been in love with you my whole goddamn life, and you love someone else.” I finally admit it to him, and the tears make my vision all blurry. “So yeah, I didn’t answer the fucking question because I couldn’t stand to hear you answer it.”
“You love me?” he says like he’s in shock or maybe he doesn’t want to hear it and maybe I just ruined the only true friendship I’ve ever had. “You love me,” he says again, and all I can do is look out the big window at the sun shining. I look at the water, and it looks so peaceful. “Look at me.”
“No,” I say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything,” I say, turning to walk away and save a bit of my dignity, but he puts his hand on my arm to stop me from going.
“Look at me, Savannah,” he says softly.
“I don’t want to.” I look down, and a tear rolls down my cheek and lands on his fingers. “I can’t,” I finally admit.
“You need to look at me so you can see,” he says, and I feel him moving closer to me. “You need to see my eyes to know the truth.” His hand slips down my arms, and he stands right behind me. I feel his heat through my T-shirt. “I need to tell you the truth.” I don’t move. “You gave me your side, so let me give you mine.” I turn and see the tears in his eyes. “You asked me if I’ve been in love, and I answered yes,” he says, and I’m not sure I can hear this. “But what you didn’t ask me or give me a chance to say is who I love.”
“I don’t really want to know,” I say.
“I fell in love with you when I was ten years old and you kicked me in the balls for tugging your hair,” he says, and now it’s me who stands in the middle of the kitchen with my mouth hanging open. “I fell in love with you even more when you were pregnant. I watched you dig so deep for all the strength to continue. I watched you build a business from scratch, and I watched you become the most amazing mother and woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve done this the whole time, falling so far in love with you that there is no one else out there for me.”
“But,” I finally say, “you go on all these dates.”
“Yeah, because you go on all these dates,” he says. “So I pretend I don’t care by going on these excruciating dates.” His thumb rubs my cheek. “Dates that I always end after an hour and then come in search of you.” All of his words have shocked me; all of his words have left me without words. “Think back to all the dates I went on and how I would show up at the bar at nine. Because that is when business would die down and you could sit down with me.” He wraps one arm around my waist. “You did your own fair share of dating.”
“Well, yeah.” I look down and then look up. “But if you notice, it was always after you went on a date.”
“So you dated because I was dating?” he asks, smiling and I’m forgetting that I started this conversation with me being angry. I push away from him now, or at least I try, but he doesn’t let his hold of me go. “Not so fast,” he says. “You love me.”
I roll my eyes now. “Well, you heard me say it.” I want to put my hands on my hips.
“I want you to say it again,” he says. I look at him, and he smiles the same smile that always makes me do whatever he wants even though I don’t want to do it.
“Fine, I love you,” I say. “You big horse’s ass.”
He throws his head back, and he laughs. “Of course she can’t just say she loves me and leave it at that.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and try to step out of his embrace.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he says, pulling me back to him tighter. “You aren’t running away this time.” His tone is very tight and to the point. “No, not this time, Savannah. It’s time to put the cards on the table.”
My heart speeds up, and my stomach goes to my throat. “I think we did put all the cards on the table.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I just put down a couple of cards. I’ve dated all these women, and I haven’t kissed one of them.” He must see the shock in my eyes. “I haven’t even laid a finger on them to even help them up.”