by Susan Ward
Why it felt so right then later frightening to go to bed with him. How I was able to dismiss my every concern over him and be taken in again. How the two men kept blurring in my thoughts this morning while I studied EJ in bed.
It’s not hurt from the past bleeding into my present.
It’s my past and present colliding.
And worst of all, I knew—on some deep level I’ve kept locked—that it was him, and somehow have been able to lie myself from the first day he showed up in front of Mel’s…right up to this moment when Ivy’s ripped my eyes wide open.
EJ.
Eric James.
Oh fuck, how could I be so foolish?
Unbidden and unwelcome tears burn my eyes. I don’t want to cry. I wish Ivy would shut up. I can’t breathe. I wish this nonsensical pain would go away.
I’m crying over someone who deserves only my anger. Having my insides ripped apart by something that happened so long ago—my hopes dashed, my dreams demolished, my heart soured, my every Eric James hurt and regret brought back to life full force.
Ivy’s hands close over mine, squeezing tightly, and I stare at them. I know she’s talking—in fact, hasn’t paused for a second, though half of what she’s spoken hasn’t registered.
“I didn’t want to hear a word out of him when he first got here, Willow.” Her voice sounds distant; my head is spinning. “You’re my best friend, and he was on my shit list because of what he did to you and I was certain that nothing was going to change that status for me. I never expected him to stick around or work so hard to prove me wrong. But he did, and he’s earned my respect enough to hear him out. I had to forgive him, Willow. It’s part of my recovery and it’s also part of his. Say you understand and aren’t angry?”
Stop. Stop, Ivy, my inner me screams at her. “I’m not angry.” That’s actually the problem; I’m numb.
“Then why are you crying? You only cry when you’re angry,” she says, brushing the tears from my cheeks with her palms. “I only went along with him because I thought it was important for you to hear him apologize. You haven’t been the same since Eric hurt you and I thought it might help you finally get past it and move on with your life. I’m glad you heard him out, Willow. I know it’s been rough for you, but it really is for the best. And just because you’ve let him apologize doesn’t mean you have to accept him back into your life to forgive him. Forgiving him isn’t about him. It’s about you moving on from what he did to you.”
Damn. Now she’s Ivy all-about-recovery armchair therapist. But she’s wrong about too many things and I don’t want to hear any more.
Lifting my nose, I say, “It probably also means I didn’t have to go to bed with him last night.” Her eyes bug out. Thank God, I managed to sound matter-of-fact when I dropped that one. My limbs are trembling as I stand. “As for forgiving him: not happening, Ivy. Eric didn’t tell me anything and he most certainly didn’t apologize to me. He skipped the amends and went for the fuck instead. That’s exactly the Eric James I remember. As for you lying to me all these weeks and encouraging me to get to know him, I’m sure we’ll be friends again someday, but right now I’m getting the hell out of here and going home to kick that bastard out of my bed.”
Chapter Nineteen
Willow
MY BODY IS COVERED with icy cold anxiety sweat as I march stiffly across the grass toward my house. There’s darkness from my windows as I awkwardly climb up the front steps. Eric must still be sound asleep in my bed where I left him.
It’s only when my hand closes around the knob that my thoughts take shape and my emotions give way. Disjointed fragments ricochet inside my head. He loves you. He’s here to apologize. You don’t have to have him in your life to forgive him. They give birth to an avalanche of new unanswered questions brought from Eric’s return into my life.
Forgive him, my ass! How could I let Eric do this to me again? Romance me up then play me for a fool. Only this time it seems with the full knowledge of my best friend.
I brush furiously at the stinging rivers on my cheeks, only I’m not twenty anymore, and they’re not tears of heartbreak. They’re scalding hot angry woman tears. How could I have been so stupid? If I’m feeling any hurt at all it’s because of that.
I shut off my brain to follow my heart for a second time with him, and again all I have to show for it is humiliation, a battered spirit, and a few magical moments made no longer magical by his lies. That’s it…I have to throw him out. He’s no good for me, and I’m too good for him. How could he think he could possibly have a chance with me when he can’t even face me honestly? A relationship built on lies is no relationship at all. Clearly that part about honesty he hasn’t picked up on at the meetings he goes to with Ivy.
I’m a shaking jumble by the time I near the hallway. My thoughts are all haywire, echoing and bouncing off the side of my skull, fueling something so intense in me I’m not sure I can face him yet. Turning back into the great room, I grab a cushion off the sofa and scream into it, letting the stuffing muffle the sound and hopefully absorb my emotion.
I scream again.
Then again.
The thought of facing him practically chokes me, and the only way to get it out is to scream it out.
Once I feel a measure of composure return, I toss aside the pillow and hustle down the hall.
I charge into the bedroom—oh no, he’s awake.
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, and the sight of him for some reason causes my stomach to drop. Thankfully, he hasn’t turned on any lights. I don’t think I could stand seeing his gorgeous face any clearer than I’m able to from the faint light pouring through the windows from the outside streetlamp.
The bed squeaks from his weight as he rises, and before I can rally my legs to step back, he’s across the room, standing near to me. “Please, don’t hate me,” he says, his breath brushing my skin, his voice achingly grim. “Hear me out, and I’ll go, if you still want me to.”
My heart clenches and I’m sure it’s the wrong reaction for a woman to have since clearly Ivy must have given him a heads-up on what was coming his way. Why else would he be awake, dressed and waiting, more prepared, it seems, than I am for this confrontation?
Time moves in and stops.
He reaches out for me and I spring back. “No. Don’t you dare try to touch me or talk your way out of this. There’s nothing you can say that I would want to hear. Just go. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“You don’t mean that, Willow.” His pleading eyes scatter my thoughts. “I know you have no reason to believe me but hurting you and causing problems with Ivy are the last things I intended.”
I reach to flip on a light because I want him to see my face. “But that’s what you did, Eric. If a woman you believe loved you told you nothing but lies, failed to mention she was married, then broke your heart, only to come back in your life masquerading as someone else so she could hurt you yet again, would you want to hear anything she had to say?”
His face turns ashen and his hand that’d been suspended in its trek toward my arm slowly lowers to his side. “Probably not. Not how you put it.”
“There’s no other way to put it. That’s a pretty accurate account of our history.”
“Only if you leave out the most important part. That I’m in love with you,” he murmurs, staring anxiously at me in a way that makes it like the air’s been knocked out of me. I don’t note his hand moving until I feel his thumb tracing down my jawline. “And you’re in love with me.”
His presumptuous words make me see red and I twist away from his caress. “Wrong. Any love that survived what you did when we were twenty died five minutes ago at Ivy’s.”
“You don’t believe that and neither do I.”
I lift my nose. “We can argue this all day, but it won’t change anything. I want you out of my house and out of my life.”
His entire demeanor changes in a millisec
ond. He folds his arms, resolute, and his expression turns Eric James’s cocky. “Is that really what you want, Willow?”
“Yes!”
“Sorry, I don’t believe you, not after the night we shared.”
My face burns, and crap, he looks completely calm, like he has no intention of leaving.
Taking a deep breath, I rush around him to the chair on the far side of the room. I stop with it between us, and his gaze sparkles with amusement.
Studying me, he rubs his chin. “I’m sure there’s a reason for why you think that’s the right move, but I’m sorry, I don’t get it. What’s the chair supposed to accomplish? Don’t you think we’re beyond the carry-mace-in-your-purse stage of dating? Fuck, Willow, you know I’d never hurt you.”
My cheeks flame hotter. All right, it’s a lame, overly dramatic defensive move, but I wanted to keep the line between us clear. “I don’t know anything about you except a swarm of lies. You’re like one of those shapeshifters in novels. One minute you’re a black-haired Brit, and the next a golden-haired American street musician. You’re very changeable. I don’t even know which you is the real you. That’s reason enough to be cautious until you leave and I can bolt my door.”
“I’m not leaving until we’ve talked this through.”
“If that’s the case then you can do it from over there.” I square my shoulders and toughen my stance.
He runs a hand through his hair and shrugs. “If this is the way it has to be to get you to listen, then so be it.”
Fuck.
I’ve backed myself into a corner.
“Say what you have to say, then go,” I whisper.
“Seven years ago, I fell in love with you, Willow. And I’ve loved you every day since. What I did to you back then was wrong. It was also wrong not to be honest with you when I first started showing up in front of Mel’s. I came here to tell you I was sorry for what I’d done and found myself in love with you. It’s hard enough to make amends to someone you’ve wrong without discovering they’re the one person you can’t live without. It’s taken weeks for me to figure out how to make my amends more than an apology but something that will let you know without a doubt that I love you. I know that’s no excuse and I sure as hell shouldn’t have gone to bed with you without being honest first about everything. Last night wasn’t supposed to happen and you weren’t supposed to find out the truth that way.”
His voice trails off and he no longer looks self-assured but heart-achingly vulnerable.
“That’s it? That’s what you wanted me to listen to? That’s your grand amends and apology that’s taken you weeks to figure out?”
“There’s more,” he whispers, his voice raw. “But I don’t think that’s going to work out well this morning.”
I gaze at his beautiful face, not sure if I should laugh or scream. “You’re right, Eric. It won’t work out well. Not today or any day if you think it’s going to make a difference with me. Now it’s your turn to listen to me.” The words come out of my mouth on their own, everything I’ve held inside since he left me. “Do you have any idea how badly you broke my heart? What it felt like when your wife called me and begged for me to let you go because she was pregnant? To know that I’d judged you so wrongly that I’d borrowed money from my dad that nearly cost him his business to help a guy who’d lied and never really cared about me? Do you have any idea how long it took me to get over you? How much unhappiness you’ve brought to my life because I love you? My father disowned me because of you. I married Dean. Nothing in my life has felt good or hopeful since I met you. You took everything from me, Eric. Everything. And the worst part is, you didn’t even want it. I’ve fought so hard to let you go. I thought I’d finally moved on from you. And here I am, having been made a fool by you again, and I don’t even know who the hell you are.”
His eyes lock on me and my throat convulses.
“My name is Eric James Manzone. My family and close friends call me EJ. I have three sisters, a twin brother, Ethan, and a six-year-old daughter named Hana. My parents are Alan Manzone and Christian Parker.”
My thoughts whirl and his words cut off abruptly as I rapidly study him to determine if I’ve heard him correctly. Even though I know hardly anything about music, I’d have to be from Mars not to know who his parents are, and what it means to who Eric is.
I can hardly breathe as he patiently waits for the shock of that revelation to wane enough for him to continue.
“I grew up in Pacific Palisades, California,” he says quietly, his potent blues eyes gentle. “I used to live in Laurel Canyon. Now I’m from wherever you are. I’m twenty-seven, single, and madly in love with you. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend my entire life trying to heal the hurt I’ve given you. I’m sorry for what I’ve done and not loving you as you deserve.”
He says that as if it’s a magic panacea, and for a moment the good memories of us caper through my mind.
There was a time I dreamed of him coming back and saying a speech like that. But too much has happened for his words to mean anything to me.
I have had my eyes opened and in a twenty-four-hour span have experienced both the wonderful and the heartbreaking of this man. I’ve longed for this, yet it’s only confirmed my greatest fears. Despite his words, I fell in love with a man not capable of love. And strangely, knowing that is liberating.
“Thank you for the apology,” I say, my voice flat and empty. “Consider yourself forgiven. But I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“You will see me again, Willow,” he murmurs, his voice full of determination.
I force myself to look in his eyes. “Get out.”
Chapter Twenty
Eric
I DREAD GOING BACK to the El Encanto even though Ethan, Avery, and Hank are there. My insides are roiling—in that way that warns find a meeting, Eric—but I keep on driving the same streets over and over again, a circular route around Willow’s neighborhood that goes nowhere.
Remembering her head resting on my chest after we made love, I can smell her sweet fragrance on my skin. I should never have gone to bed with her without telling her everything first. It’s right that she threw me out. Why the hell would she want to be with me anyway?
I shouldn’t have left after she ordered me out.
Deep inside I know why I did—because I have to respect her needs and boundaries, no matter how much it hurt to do so. Why couldn’t I do that before I seduced her?
I know that answer as well. Even after nearly a year of recovery, I’m still too impetuous and selfish to resist temptation. I love her and couldn’t wait for her to do things the right way any longer. I never thought what it would mean to her if I didn’t.
As I drifted off to sleep last night, I actually had thoughts of how coffee would be in the morning with her, that I’d tell her everything and she’d be happy.
Dumb, Eric.
You’re the asshole who ruined her life.
My heart starts to hammer like I’ve run forty blocks. I need to go to a meeting or go talk to someone. I’m holding on by a thread here.
The cell phone in my pocket trills. It’s probably only Ivy wanting to blast me with both barrels again. Even I’m not hopeful enough to imagine it’s Willow, not after that scene in her bedroom.
I don’t ever want to see you again.
She had every right to say that. In fact, it’s the only rational response to what I’ve done. And of course, me being me, I countered with an irrational reply: You will see me again.
Typical arrogant prick Eric. Thinking only of my need. My heart…my fucking damaged ego.
Christ, when will this pain stop?
It’s brutal and sharply piercing every cell in me.
I’m not used to feeling things so intensely; it nearly cripples me. I’m breathing heavily, another warning sign I need to do something fast to pull it together.
Is this how she felt when I hurt her before?
Is this how loving me has felt to her?
Christ—I make a fast turn toward the hotel.
Schedules, tasks, routines.
I need to get back on track before I lose control over me.
ETHAN AND AVERY LOOK up as I enter the Emerald Suite. Their faces are dual images of curiosity and amusement.
Ethan makes a show of checking his watch. “Forget something, Eric? It’s noon. It’s a good thing Avery didn’t let me continue waiting up for you last night.”
They both laugh; I’m in misery.
I shrug. “Got sidetracked. Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not if the details are good,” Avery taunts, and they’re both smiling. “How’d your evening go with Willow? Seeing as you’re strolling in the next afternoon, I think it must have gone well.”
“Just your standard second date.”
“It’s been a while since either of us have dated,” Ethan announces. “You’re going to have to fill in the blanks better for us.”
“It’s private, you jerk.”
Avery’s brows lift. “That means it went well, E. You can stop giving EJ shit. He stood you up for a good cause.”
I make a show of rummaging in my pocket for the fob and toss Ethan’s keys to him as something to focus on other than how badly my heart hurts. “Thanks for lending me your car.”
“No problem. Even if you don’t want to give us details when we feel invested because we helped out with the planning,” Ethan states affably, retrieving the fob from the carpet because my lob to him was as off the mark as everything I’ve done in the past twenty-four hours.
“It was all right.” I sink down on the chair across from the sofa and manage the semblance of a smile.
“Did she like dinner? The boat?” Avery prods.
“It wasn’t a boat, babe. It was a yacht. Never call a yacht a boat to a guy who owns one,” Ethan tells his wife.
She shakes her head, rolls her eyes, then focuses on me again. “Yacht, then. She had to be blown away. It sounds so romantic.”
“She was blown away all right.” My throat tightens on blown away. I can’t fight back an image of how Willow’s gorgeous brown eyes looked as she marched into the bedroom, the change in them caused by knowing who I am, and the knot in my stomach grows larger.
