The Complete Irreparable Boxed Set: Irreparable #1-2

by Sam Mariano

  “Oh, my god,” she said, her eyes widening. “They’re separated.”

  “They look separated.”

  Willow’s jaw clenched shut. “I have to use the restroom,” she said, since she couldn’t tell her boss to fuck off.

  “You want me to take their order for you?” he asked.

  She absolutely did, but she was too annoyed with him to let him bail her out, so she said shortly, “I can do it myself.”

  By the time she made it into the restroom, throwing her order pad down on the sink, she couldn’t tell if she was flushed and shaky from Ethan blindsiding her or her boss infuriating her.

  “Get it together,” she told herself, half-glaring at her reflection as she braced herself on the sink.

  Since Ethan had been as shocked as she was, clearly he had not been in on it. Given that they requested her section, it wasn’t an unlucky coincidence. She didn’t know how Amanda even knew where she worked—apparently Ethan didn’t—but she must have found out somehow.

  Willow would just have to deal. God knew she’d survived worse.

  Once she felt she had enough control to get through the next hour—God, she hoped they were fast eaters—she propelled herself out the door, nearly running into Ethan, who stood outside leaning against the wall.

  Before she could speak, he said, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea—I didn’t even know you worked here.”

  “Clearly you’re the only one,” she shot back, a little of her irritation seeping out.

  Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Your party requested my table,” she pointed out. “People don’t usually request waitresses by name if they don’t know they work there.”

  Letting his head fall back, he said, “Jesus Christ. Why…?”

  Willow shrugged, shaking her head. “Sadism?”

  He shook his head, meeting her gaze. His was soft, apologetic. “I’m so, so sorry, Willow.”

  “I am so, so sick of your apologies, Ethan,” she stated. “I can’t believe I’m in this position right now.”

  He reached out to briefly cup her jaw in his hand, and despite her annoyance, she softened, closing her eyes for a few seconds.

  She nearly jumped out of her skin when a male voice at the end of the hallway suddenly asked coldly, “Is there a problem back here?”

  Gasping and stepping away from Ethan, her gaze jumped to her boss and she shook her head. “Nope, no problem.”

  But he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Ethan. Ethan thanked him, in the way that people do to dismiss the help, but her boss didn’t budge.

  Ethan, upon realizing her boss wasn’t moving, briefly glanced back at Willow, then headed past her into the men’s restroom.

  Willow threw her boss an uncertain glance, then walked past him to return to her work station.

  After the longest shift of her life, Willow dropped into the driver’s seat of her car and fired up the engine, asking herself if she was absolutely crazy to be heading to Ethan’s apartment.

  It didn’t feel like it could end well, which made her want to avoid seeing him altogether.

  Ethan, ever the adult, wanted to face things head on. He’d requested her presence, and she got the distinct impression it wasn’t a booty call.

  Frankly, she wished it was.

  Dread coursed through her as she walked up to his apartment door, pausing before lightly rapping on it.

  The door opened and there he stood in a white T-shirt and gray sweats, ready for bed. He looked tired—not from lack of sleep, but from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and despite everything, she felt a moment of intense guilt for her part in it.

  The depth of how much she wanted him came rushing back in his presence. Her calm rationale, her realistic common sense flew away and instead she felt a completely uncharacteristic yearning deep inside of her soul to just keep him, no matter the cost.

  He didn’t seem to know what to expect, judging by the guarded look he regarded her with. Willow followed her instincts and wrapped her arms around his neck, melting against him.

  Ethan seemed surprised, but then his arms closed around her waist and he tugged her close.

  “I hate this,” she muttered.

  “I know,” he said, vehemently.

  Without letting go, she said, “Tell me why she had your socks.”

  A puff of breath against her neck alerted her to a soft laugh or something like it. “From when Caleb was sick. That was a calculated move.”

  “Must’ve been a fun dinner,” she remarked.

  His grip around her waist finally eased and he leaned back, so she dropped her arms around his shoulders, but remained close.

  “You have no idea,” he said.

  “Oh, I think I have an idea,” she disagreed. “My boss thinks I’m a skanky homewrecker now, so thanks for that.”

  “Was that the guy from the hallway? I didn’t like him.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Trust me, he didn’t like you either.”

  “I think he’s a little too worried about your love life.”

  She could hear his jealous side creeping in, and while she pulled a dry face, it made her heart happy. “Trust me, Aaron is just nosey. He’s married.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes. “Like that matters.”

  “It does to some—” She stopped short of insulting him, but could tell by the way he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head as if to say, “Oh yeah?” that he could fill in the blanks.

  “Wanna finish that sentence?” he challenged, but lightly.

  “He’s happily married. Stupidly happy. They have kid—He’s not like th—he wouldn’t…” Willow gave up with a sigh, offering him a mockingly bright smile and tugging on his arms. “You look so sexy tonight.”

  “Uh huh,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  Continuing the act, she rubbed his right bicep. “You must’ve been working out just before I got here.”

  “I’m a terrible, lesser man than your unquestionably faithful boss, I get it,” he half-joked.

  Willow rolled her eyes and dropped her arm. “Okay, maybe we should get back to talking about how I spent a portion of my shift serving you and your wife and kids.”

  Dropping the cloak of playfulness, he nodded and took a step back, sobering. “Actually, we should.”

  Immediately missing the playfulness, she found herself regretting that particular turn, but it was why she had come over anyway. Following him to his couch, she waited on his lead to see if he’d want to sit close or keep some distance between them. Seeming to understand, he patted the cushion right next to his, so Willow curled a leg beneath her and sat down.

  “I’ve taken some time to think things through, and I have some things to say that you might not like.”

  “Oh, good,” she murmured.

  “I never want to be unfair to you,” he told her, and his blue eyes were so damned earnest that she couldn’t even decide what to feel. “I have been, a lot,” he added. “But I never mean to. I can’t promise it’s not going to keep happening. I’m…” He shook his head, violently expelling a little breath. “I’m trying to be two people, still, and that on its own isn’t fair to you. I told you before that I wouldn’t even think about being in a relationship right now if you were anyone else, and this is why. It isn’t the right time, I can’t be fair to you—not yet. I think, if things were different, maybe if you would’ve gone off to college and then come back and we got together then, I think then I could’ve been at least closer to what you deserve.”

  Willow was already shaking her head. “Ethan—”

  He held up a hand to stop her. “Let me finish. Let me just get it out, and then we can… hash it out.”

  She sighed and drooped against the couch, but nodded for him to proceed.

  “I’m trying to be honest with you. I don’t want to lie to you. I do want to get my family back together. I care about you very deeply, and I don’t want to hurt you—and if I am right now,
I’m so sorry. That was never my intention. But… I can’t give up on my family. I can’t promise to close that door right now. I’m not trying to be that guy, I’m not trying to use them as an excuse, but my kids mean the world to me—having a family is important to me, and it has nothing to do with you. I think any guy you ever choose to give yourself to is the luckiest bastard around, and whatever happens, I’ll never regret you letting me be that bastard right now.”

  A million different emotions swarmed Willow’s brain, but all she could get out of her mouth was, “You’re breaking up with me.”

  It took him five million hours—or too many seconds, but what was the difference at that point—before he responded a bit cautiously, “I’m not. A better man probably would, but…”

  Willow was so confused that she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t pin down an emotion long enough to process it, let alone express it.

  He lightly touched her knee, jarring her enough that she jerked her gaze up to his.

  He looked sad. “You should go to New York.”

  Finally something ignited within her, and although her emotions were still varied and overwhelming, she managed to ground out, “I can’t believe you right now.”

  “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but someday you’re probably going to look back on this as the only good thing I ever did for you.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, nodding, but it was definitely a trap. “I have an idea for something else you can do for me, something else I can look back on as the best thing you ever did for me.”

  He looked braced for an attack as she rose off the couch, but he watched her cautiously. “What’s that?”

  “Make a goddamn choice. Ask Amanda outright to take you back, or file for a goddamn divorce. How long are you going to let her keep you in limbo, Ethan? How long are you going to wait around on a maybe?”

  “It’s not that simple.” He shook his head.

  “It can be!” Her eyebrows rose and her eyes bugged out. “All you have to do is ask. But you don’t want to ask, because you don’t want to hear the answer. You don’t want to hear her choose to go on without you. I get it, I do—I’ve avoided having this conversation with you for the exact same reason, but you know what? We can’t live that way forever. And I would wait for you—I would wait so much longer than I should be willing to wait, if I just knew it would pay off. And you know what, Ethan? So would you. Just not for me.”

  Ethan shook his head, sighing and hanging his head. “I hate it when you make it sound like I don’t give a damn about you.”

  “I hate it when you make me feel like you don’t,” she shot back.

  “I hate this conversation,” he stated.

  “I hate the fact that I feel like you just tried to break up with me, and I’m still fucking standing here.”

  Something like sympathy flitted across his features and he looked up at her, saying quietly, “Yeah, I hate that, too.”

  Willow nodded, her stomach feeling like a sinkhole. “And right now? Right now I hate that I love you, because I do, and I hate that I’m afraid to say that to you because I don’t know how you’ll react, and I hate the fear and uncertainty and insecurity that I feel right now, but do you know what I hate most? What I hate most is that this conversation isn’t going to change anything, not for the better. You’re not going to do a damn thing to change things, and you’re going to let me walk out that goddamn door even though that’s not what either one of us wants, and somehow, somehow you get to feel like you’re not the one who broke up with me.”

  By that point tears were shining in her eyes, wobbling above the rim but not falling. Ethan stood, wordless, and just stared at her. So many different feelings floated in the depth of his sad blue eyes, but all she could think was how much she hated that he was breaking her heart, how it wasn’t fair that she was going to lose him and she didn’t have to—he could stop it. But he wouldn’t.

  For a split second, his mouth inched open and he looked like he was going to argue, but then his hand was pressed against the small of her back and he was yanking her up against his hard body, his mouth crushing hers as her arms wound around him in response, trying to pull him even closer.

  Her hands wasted no time going for the waist band of his pants, but he caught her wrist, pulling back slightly.

  “This would be a good time for you to slap me and make a dramatic exit,” he advised.

  “You want me to go?”

  “I want you to stay,” he stated. “But I’m afraid it’s going to lead to more of this and then an even messier explosion of feelings down the road, after you’ve already given up even more for me, and I don’t want that.”

  She mulled over his words for a moment, head down so she wasn’t distracted by his too-handsome face. She still felt immeasurably sad, especially because he talked like it was some inevitability instead of a choice he was making. It was so cowardly and annoying, and she didn’t think of him that way.

  The temptation to shove away sadness for at least a few more hours was very real, though, and as she bit down on her lower lip, she thought she’d rather have one more night with him than whatever scrap of pride she may preserve if she turned around and walked out.

  Shoulders slumping, she leaned against him, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “I’m so mad at you right now.”

  “You should be.”

  Then she pulled back and turned, tugging him by his t-shirt, until they had switched positions and it was her legs back against the couch. Unbuttoning her shirt, she peeled it off and tossed it in the floor while Ethan watched. Next came the pants, then her bra and panties. Once she stood before him completely naked, she quirked an eyebrow.

  “So, should I leave?” she asked.

  If the heat in his eyes didn’t tell her it was too late for that, his nearly-painful grasp on her hips as he pushed her down on the couch, dropping to his knees certainly did. Uncomplicated lust overtook her less enjoyable feelings and she spread her legs, sinking back into the couch and closing her eyes as the source of so much of her pain brought her immense pleasure one last time.

  Ethan burrowed into his coat as rain pelted him, angry gusts of wind seemingly trying to push him back into his car. It was hard not to think of the tempestuous weather as some sort of sign.

  Two nights ago he sat at his first family dinner in half a year across from the woman he’d sworn the rest of his days to. Hours later, after two rounds of angry, intensely emotional sex with another woman whose heart he’d just split open—again—he’d held her in his arms while she slept and mulled over every word she’d said to him that night.

  Steeling himself against the wind and rain, he jogged up the concrete path from his old driveway to his old front porch, and without giving himself another second to rethink it, he skipped the doorbell and opened the front door.

  Amanda was just walking into the living room from the kitchen, and she jolted in surprise, placing a hand to her chest.

  “Sorry,” he said, offering a rueful smile. “I didn’t want to ring the doorbell.”

  “Right. The kids.” Nervously clasping and unclasping her hands together, she said, “All right. You said you needed to talk. Where should we do this?”

  He knew what she was asking—would it get ugly? He had no idea.

  “The couch may be optimistic, but I guess we can always relocate if we need to.”

  Rolling her eyes lightly, she shrugged and took a seat on the edge of the couch. Full of nervous energy and no less eager for whatever conversation they were about to have than he was, she rubbed her palms against her legs.

  “How’ve you been?” she asked.

  “Busy. Lots of work.”

  “Work, right.” She nodded, but it was loaded and he knew it.

  His patience shortened just a bit. “I kind of… want to just get right into it, if you don’t mind. I have a couple of things I need to address, and I don’t know how you’re going to take any of it. I know that you know me, an
d you know how I am, but I guess I want to lead with… I’m not angry, I’m certainly not judging, but…”

  Her eyebrows drew together in an angry sort of confusion. “Judging?”

  Meeting her gaze, he stated, “I know you’re talking to Tucker.”

  She drew back, anger quickly replaced by a kind of avoidant befuddlement. “What?”

  “More importantly, Angela knows,” he added, surprised at how calm—almost sympathetic—he was managing to be.

  Her eyes widened and she sat back, then her hands flew to her face, hiding—whether from him or the truth he delivered, he wasn’t sure.

  “How…?”

  Lifting his eyebrows, he just sort of shrugged. “She asked me to look into it. Professionally.”

  “Oh, my god,” she said on a groan.

  “Now that’s out of the way…” He trailed off, unsure exactly how he wanted to proceed.

  Rearing back, her eyes widened. “Out of the way? Jesus, Ethan. It’s not… it’s not as bad as you think. We’re friends, you know that—”

  Holding up a hand to stop her, he said, “You don’t have to justify yourself to me. I get it.”

  That only seemed to make her angry. “No, you don’t. This isn’t the same thing…”

  “I know,” he acknowledged softly, wanting to keep the volume down. He knew she needed him to see the difference between them, even if she was also wrong. She needed him to know he was more wrong. He would give her that. “I know,” he repeated.

  Leaning forward and burying her face in her hands again, she said, “My god, poor Angela. She probably thinks…” She shook her head, face still buried. “I’m horrible. Everything is a mess, and I….”

  Ethan nodded, totally understanding. “I know.”

  “I honestly don’t understand how we got here. We were normal. How did life get this fucked up?” she asked.

  “I wish I knew.”

  “I guess I'm a horrible person now, too,” she said quietly, her eyes drifting off at nothing.

  “I think we’re all a little horrible in our own way,” he told her. “Look on the bright side, at least she hired me to catch you.”