She shrugs. “I’m still going to make sure you get it. Look on the bright side. At least we know there’s no one on the island out to hurt me.”
I’m relieved by that but… “So you’re not even going to give us a chance?”
“Tanner, I found myself falling for you too hard and too fast. But one thing I know: if you’re not with me, you can’t hurt me.”
“I also can’t comfort, love, or protect you. I can’t be that man you’ve always wanted.” Every word hurts so fucking bad. “But maybe that’s all right since you’ve decided not to be the brave, ballsy woman I know you can be. Oh, and in case you thought I was nothing but a mercenary prick”—I yank out the check Bruce stuffed in my pocket and tear it until it’s confetti—“I’m not. Goodbye.”
Chapter Eleven
The next day, I’m awakened just like I was three days ago—by my cell phone chiming a lousy breakup song I’ve assigned as my ex’s ringtone. But this time it’s not Bon Jovi warning me that Ellie is up in my business. Gwen Stefani voicing No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak” tells me it’s Mandy calling.
Excuse me, Amanda.
She told me to take a hike less than twelve hours ago, and I assigned her that tune because it honestly felt like she didn’t want to hear me. Or couldn’t. Not a single word I said. She listened to her fear, not to the man who wanted to love her for life. And I lost. So what does she want now that we’re over?
I almost don’t answer until I hear a groan on the other side of the small apartment. “Are you going to get that or just let it wake me up again?”
Shit. It’s Joe. I banged on his door when I left the villa and asked to crash on his sofa for the night. He must have seen how messed up I was. If my mood didn’t tell him, the bottle in my fist—which I proceeded to drain—surely clued him in.
“Sorry.” I sit up and reach for my phone to silence it. And I instantly regret it. My head hurts like a bitch.
“Answer it already. Whoever that is has called three times in ten minutes.”
She has? Apparently, and I didn’t hear it.
“All right. Sorry. Go back to sleep.” I creep from the sofa, grateful I’m wearing my shorts, then head out to the balcony, phone in hand, squinting against the morning light. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I answer the call. “Are you in danger?”
“N-no. Tanner, I—”
“Are you all right?”
“Physically, yes, but—”
“Then we don’t have anything else to say. You made yourself pretty clear last night.”
“Actually, I didn’t,” she says softly. “Would you come by the villa this morning? Please.”
I tense. My head pounds unmercifully. I don’t dare get my hopes up. “Why?”
“I just want to talk. Ten minutes. I won’t keep you longer than that.”
On the one hand, I don’t want to give her the opportunity to hurt me again. I told her I loved her and I meant it. Despite everything between us, she didn’t choose me. Hell, she didn’t even bat an eye when I said the words. On the other hand…I want to see her so fucking badly, even if it’s going to hurt like hell. I doubt she’ll realize she’s made a mistake, but that doesn’t change how greedy I am to lay eyes on her.
“Looking to rip my heart out again?”
“That’s not it at all. I promise.”
God, I feel like such a sucker. “Fine. I’ll be there in thirty.”
“Thank you.” She sounds so earnest. “Really. You won’t regret it.”
I already do, but for some fucking reason I still love her too much to refuse. I don’t say anything, though. I just hang up and stride back into the apartment.
Joe is standing there, waiting in a ratty blue terrycloth bathrobe. “You less miserable now?”
I rub at my aching forehead, but nothing is putting a dent in this hangover. “Not really.”
“That Amanda?”
How much did I tell him last night? Honestly, I don’t remember a lot beyond twisting the cap off my vodka and snarling that I wanted some time alone. “Yeah. She wants to ‘talk,’ whatever that means. Sorry if I was an asshole last night.”
“You weren’t an asshole. You were broken-hearted. I don’t know this girl at all, but I know you love her.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s not reciprocated.”
“Are you sure it isn’t?” he challenges. “Cam’s mother and I…”
“Split a long time ago.” Camden told me the stories. He was in seventh grade, and his dad left one night. Filed for divorce the next day.
“Because I was an idiot. One of my buddies intimated my wife was having a fling with the contractor remodeling our kitchen. He was there with her all day, alone a lot of the time. Whenever I’d come home, they’d be so deep in conversation they’d barely notice me. Sex had gone to hell. So I was convinced my buddy was right.” He scoffs bitterly. “Turns out, my buddy just wanted my wife for himself. Two years after our divorce, he married her.”
“You and Teddy were friends?” I can’t even picture that.
“From high school until the day I found out he was banging Brenda.” He shakes his head. “The whole breakup was my fault. I let my pride do my talking, not my heart. And I spent the rest of my fucking life in misery. Don’t repeat my mistake. Because the worst day of my life was getting a letter from Brenda just before she died of breast cancer telling me that she’d never once cheated on me and she’d never stopped loving me. I realized I’d pissed away fifteen years we could have had together.”
That really sucks. “I’m sorry. But I’m not here because I had too much pride. I’m here because Amanda told me to leave.”
“Sure, but she’s asked you to come back to talk. Don’t let your pride stand in your way.”
“It’s not. I said I’d be there.”
“You’ll go, sure.” He peers at me, and I see a lifetime of sadness on his face. He’d give anything for a do-over that’s never coming. “But will you really listen?”
It’s a fair question. I honestly don’t know the answer. Did I agree to go through the motions for closure? Pretty much. Would the conversation be any different if I resolved not to go in with a chip on my shoulder?
“I’ll do my best.”
He studies me, then finally nods. “I’ve spent the last twenty years alone because I was a dumb ass. And I’ve lived with so much regret… Do yourself a favor. If she wants to work it out, try. Or you’ll be like me—almost sixty, alone, and unable to commit to anyone because I buried my heart with the woman I love the day she died five years ago.”
Fuck. That’s rough. “All right. I’ll listen.”
He claps me on the shoulder. It makes my pounding head feel like it’s about to burst. “Good. Cam’s been lucky to have you as a friend. Now go take a shower. You look like shit. I’ll make coffee.”
I probably do look like shit. “Thanks. Got some ibuprofen?”