by Sarah Hegger
“Nope.” Liz brought wine with the sandwiches and handed it around.
Bella took a glass of wine. “And I sponsor some of the clothes for the show, so I have to be here.”
Pippa took the glass of wine away from Blythe. “She can have this later. Now you two go and sit over there until we’re done.”
Pippa wove in between Bianca and Rory, having her try on a confusing array of clothes. She spoke to Blythe as she worked, explaining why certain things worked and others didn’t. Bella piped up for a couple of these discussions. It made sense that Bella knew about clothes, what with her owning a high-end clothing store. But Blythe had never taken Bella seriously before. Hello, Mrs. Kettle, this is Mr. Pot calling.
As exhausting as the makeover was, Blythe loved it.
“I’ll write this all down for you,” Pippa said. “And we’ll give you a binder when you leave with all our recommendations.” She held up a pair of jeans and a shirt. “But for now, go and put these on, and we’re done.”
Ten minutes later, they all stood around her for her big reveal. Pippa insisted on her having the full makeover experience.
“Damn.” Liz downed her wine. “I think I hate her.”
“You look amazing.” Bella teared up.
The curtain dropped from the mirror, and Blythe stared. Then she stared some more.
A tall woman with a movie star body stared back at her. She knew she was in good shape and had a lot of the right things in the right place, but not like this.
She stepped closer. “Is that me?”
“That’s you.” Pippa slipped an arm around her waist. “Do you like it?”
“I can’t believe it.” She tried to take it all in. The jeans made her hips look curvy and her legs long. The top hugged her tiny waist and accentuated the firm jut of her breasts.
Rory had put warm golds and caramels through her hair, and she no longer looked like a walking Barbie. Bianca’s makeup was so subtle that all she noticed were her eyes, which looked bigger and greener than they ever had, and her full mouth.
“You look beautiful.” Pippa hugged her. “You were beautiful before. We just gave you a chance to shine through.”
“I can’t…” Blythe’s throat tightened, and she couldn’t speak.
Bella waved her hands in front of her eyes. “I swear to God, if she cries, I’m going to.”
“You already are.” Liz dabbed at the corners of her eye with a Kleenex.
Blythe got it now, why women cried on their reveal. In the mirror was the embodiment of all she wanted to be and secretly dreamed she could be. A version of herself that was better than anything she could have imagined, and yet totally authentic. It was the best version of her.
Bianca hugged her from the other side. “You’re going to knock ’em dead. In this studio and out there in the world.”
“Well, hello, Blythe.” Matt Evans strolled into the studio. He kissed Pippa first, and then turned to her with a low whistle of appreciation. “You were always hot stuff, Blythe, but this is…incendiary.”
“That’s a big word, Meat.” Pippa slid her arms around his waist.
He looked down at her and grinned in a way that made Blythe’s heart ache for a look just like it. “I know a lot of big words, Agrippina. I learned them from a book.”
Pippa turned to the dim form that had followed Matt into the studio. “What do you think, Eric?”
* * * *
What did he think? A bellow of blinding rage climbed inside Eric and clamored to escape. “What do I think?”
That woman wasn’t Blythe. Not his Blythe. It was like they’d all conspired to take his Blythe away from him. All of them. Everyone in that studio, and Blythe herself
A kernel of rational deep in his brain tried to whisper caution. Blythe looked stunning. Breathtaking. A classy combination of beautiful and elegant and refined. The sort of woman any man would crow like a rooster to have on his arm.
Only she wasn’t on his arm. That woman wasn’t his Blythe, and what she represented was how much distance there was between him and his Blythe.
“She looks nothing like herself.” He heard the words come out of his mouth before he could stop them.
Blythe blinked at him and took a reflexive step back. The hurt on her face gut-punched him.
Bella gasped and stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
But some demon had him by the mouth, and it said, “I hate it. That’s not Blythe. She looks like a dressed-up puppet.”
“What the fuck?” Liz scowled at him.
“Eric.” Pippa shook her head, giving him a look of astounded disappointment.
Matt gaped, and then scowled like he was going to kick his ass.
“You’re a dick, man,” Rory said. “She looks amazing.”
And Blythe. His beautiful girl stared at him with the wound fresh in her eyes for about two seconds before the shutters came down.
Eric hated those shutters. They were her weapon to defend herself from the world around her. When people got cruel with her or treated her with contempt, she used the shutters to keep them out. Keep them away from that warm, huge heart and that pure gold center.
“Excuse me.” She managed a tight, dismissive smile. “Apparently you can’t please all of the people all of the time.” Her brittle laugh carved right through him. “Who knew?”
Her heels clacked across the studio floor as she brushed past him and reached for her purse.
“Blythe,” he whispered, not knowing what to say, how to fix it, make it right.
She stepped around him without looking at him. Her voice was so low that only he caught it. “I expect it from other people, but not you. Never you.”
The door slammed behind her and reverberated through the tense stillness of the studio.
Matt’s low growl hit him first. “What the fuck, Eric?”
He had no defense. Shame choked him, and he held up his hand. “I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean it.”
“But you did say it.” Pippa had never given him such a cold look. “And you hurt her. That’s unforgivable.”
“I know.” He wanted to whimper like a child, but he’d done that, and there was no escape. Owning up was his only option. “I looked at her, and it terrified me.”
Pippa folded her arms and frowned at him, but some of the frost left her tone. “Why terrified you? Are you going to tell us what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” He’d lost the right to lie to them. “Not anymore. She left me about a month back. She says she deserves more.” The truth hit him like a pile driver. “And she does. She deserves it all. The man who’ll stand by her side always. The children. The house. All that love and family. She deserves that and a whole lot more.”
Matt punched his shoulder, but it wasn’t the pound he deserved. “So, give it to her.”
“I can’t.” And he felt like the lowest piece of shit saying it. “I can’t.”
“Then you need to let her go,” Pippa said.
Eric wanted to smack his head against the wall. “I know that, but I can’t seem to let her go either. And then I walked in here, and I looked at her, and she wasn’t mine. I have to accept she’s not mine and she’s moving on with her life.”
“Yes, you do.” Pippa drew even with him. “But first you have to go and make this right with her. You were cruel, and that’s not right. And then you have to wish her well and let her go.”
“I—”
“Let her go, Eric.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eric stood outside the door to Blythe’s new apartment and peered at Blake through the gap allowed by the safety chain.
“She doesn’t want to see you, dude.” Blake looked a bit too smug about it for Eric’s liking, but then he’d pretty much deserved whatever they were going to dish up.
Wh
at they didn’t realize, but they would, is that he wasn’t going away without seeing her. “I get that,” he said. “And I really don’t blame her, but I need to make it right. Tell her that I’m sorry.”
“You made her cry.” Blake’s expression hardened. “And she didn’t even cry when Brett broke her arm.”
“Fuck.” He couldn’t believe what an unmitigated asshole he’d been to her. “Please, Blake.” He would beg all night if he had to. “I know I don’t deserve it but let me in to talk to her. I’ll do anything to fix this.”
Blake stared at him.
Eric let him see his intention.
“You gonna stay out there all night if I don’t let you in?” Blake sniffed.
If that’s what it took. “Yup.”
“You’re a dick.”
“You’re right, I am.”
With a huge sigh Blake shut the door. The chain made a scraping noise as he disengaged it, and then opened the door properly. “She’s gonna kill me but if what you’ve got to say will make her stop crying, it’s worth it.”
“Thank you.” Eric shot through the gap into the apartment. He didn’t want to take any chances with Blake changing his mind.
Will stood in the kitchen giving him an even dirtier look than the one Blake had bent on him. “What is he doing here?” he asked Blake.
“Says he needs to fix what he did.”
“He’s not what Blythe needs.” Will looked Eric in the eye, the challenge clear. “He needs to leave Blythe alone, is what he needs to do.”
People kept telling him that, and he didn’t like it any more now than the first time he’d heard it. He liked it even less that they were right.
If he couldn’t give Blythe what she wanted, deserved, then he needed to respect her and care for her enough to step aside. It’s what any decent guy would do.
The apartment was on the small side with some of the ugliest furniture he’d ever seen. She’d rejected his overt offers of help, so he’d gone behind her back a little. Made sure she could afford the deposit and used influence with the landlord to keep her rent low.
Everything was neat and clean, and Blythe had added those little touches of hers. The fresh flowers on the kitchen island. The poster of her favorite Degas sketch on the wall. The big bright white wicker basket of toys in the corner.
His heart filled with pride in her. She’d worked years to make it so, but Blythe had made a home for herself, Will and Kim. Now it looked like she’d taken Blake under her wing as well.
One day she would make the same kind of home with a man in it. A man who wouldn’t be him. Somewhere inside him, he needed to find a better version of the selfish fuck he was currently being.
Blythe strode into the common living area. She still wore the outfit Pippa had put her in, and she looked incredible. Also, angry as hell. “Who let you in?”
“Blake.” He and Will said at the same time.
Blythe turned her scowl on Blake. “What the hell?”
“He said he wanted to talk to you. Make it right.” Blake looked sheepish. “I thought if he could make you feel better, it was worth a shot.”
Her shoulders eased a bit, and her expression softened. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah, but you already knew that about me.” Blake shrugged.
She turned back to Eric, and all the anger came back with her. “So talk.”
Kim wandered into the living room and went to stand beside Blake.
Will watched him from the kitchen.
“Umm…maybe you could go and get a coffee or something?” Eric couldn’t talk to her with her family watching on.
“We’ll go out for a bit,” Blake said.
Will snorted. “Like hell we will.”
“It’s okay, Will,” Blythe said. “This conversation has probably been too long in coming anyway.”
“I’m not leaving you here with this asshole,” Will said.
Blythe scoffed. “I can handle this asshole. Give us about thirty minutes.”
“Don’t say asshole,” Kim said, and then turned to Eric. “I like going out for ice cream.”
Eric reached for his wallet.
“Don’t.” Will snatched up his car keys and sneered at Eric. “We didn’t need your money before, and we certainly don’t need it now.”
Kim looked at him in horror. “For ice cream. We need it.”
“I’ll buy you ice cream.” Will steered her out the door.
“Don’t screw up,” Blake said to him as he followed them out.
Being told by a Barrows brother not to screw up had to be some kind of poetic justice smacking into him.
The door shut behind them. And then there were two, and Eric couldn’t think of a word to say. He started with the obvious. “I’m sorry about what I said.” He wanted to close the distance between them, but her body language gave him the stop-right-there. “You look unbelievable, and that’s what I should have said. Instead, I freaked out.”
“You freaked out?” She looked at him askance. “Because I got a makeover. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.” God, he was never stuck for words. Why now? “You were standing there, looking so beautiful and so far away from me. And I suddenly couldn’t pretend anymore. I’ve lost you.”
“What?” All the tension rushed out of her on a breath and left a look of incredulity. “We broke up a month ago.”
“That’s the thing.” And Eric needed to say this like he needed air. “We didn’t break up. You broke up with me.”
She frowned and made an I-don’t-get-it hand toss.
Eric risked a few steps nearer. The need to touch her sparked through his nerve endings but his timing couldn’t be worse. He had to make her understand. For both of their sakes. “I wasn’t ready,” he said. “For things between us to end. I walked out that morning expecting that I would give you a couple of days to cool off, then we’d talk, one thing would lead to another, and we’d be back in bed before the end of the week.”
She winced and folded her arms. “Because that’s what always happened.”
“Right.” He hadn’t known this time would be different. “I’m finding it hard to accept that you’re not coming back this time.”
“I’m not,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
“I know.” He came to within touching distance of her. The subtle floral note of her perfume teased him. “And when I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I understand, and I agree you deserve more.” He couldn’t stop himself, and he took her hand. “But, sweet thing, I miss you so much, and there’s this big part of me that doesn’t want to accept that I’ve lost you.”
“Eric.” She left her hand in his. “You don’t love me. I don’t get why this is so hard for you.”
“Neither do I. But I miss it all.” He tugged her close enough to rest his cheek against her head. If he didn’t hold her now, he’d implode. “I miss the way you text me more emojis than words.” His hand found the small of her back and rested there. He thanked God that she allowed him that. “I miss how you hate talking on the phone, and when you do, it’s like speaking to a drill sergeant.”
She huffed a soft laugh.
“I miss the way you can always make me see the funny side of my crappy day, and how you hate being held at night because you get too hot.” He drew her into his arms and held her, light enough for her to break away if she chose. “I miss your beautiful body and how every time we make love, it’s better than the time before. I miss it all, sweet thing, every tiny detail of our time together.”
“But you don’t want more.” Her arms slid around his waist, beneath his jacket, just like she had always done.
The familiar way she tucked her head under his chin made him want to bawl like a fucking baby. “Jesus, sweet thing, I wish I did. I wish I could give you everything you want and make it
worth your while to stay.”
“I wish that too.” Her soft sigh was filled with the same unbearable sadness inside him.
Eric tightened his hold on her. “I’m going to do better by you, do right by you. For the record, I really, really can’t tell you how much I don’t fucking want to, but it’s what you need. Let me just hold you for a few minutes and say goodbye.”
Her breath hitched and his shirt grew damp where her cheek rested against him.
Damn, he’d made this brave, tough, incredible woman cry again.
“You found me at the lowest point of my life, Blythe.” He had been nineteen, drunk and trying not to cry. Still reeling from the death of his father the year before and trying to deal with what had happened with Laura.
Then Blythe had tripped out of the bar in her tiny denim miniskirt, showing miles and miles of the most killer legs he’d ever seen. Through the gap between her shrink-wrapped T-shirt and her skirt, he had caught a mouthwatering glimpse of taut belly. At sixteen she had looked like his salvation.
Instead of offering sex, she had handed him a cup of coffee and perched beside him. Even drunk and hopped up on nineteen-year-old hormones, he had recognized the innocence in her, and despite everything he had heard about her, he had drunk his coffee and unburdened his soul.
First they had been friends of a sort. Both of them had acknowledged the staggering attraction but never acted on it. A few years later, they had run into each other again, and that time he’d been her first lover.
From there, they had drifted into a pattern. Whenever he had been in town, and they had both been single, they had found their way into the nearest bed together. The attraction had never gotten any less.
“You’ve been there for me too, when I needed you,” she said. “You have been a big part of my life.”
Her words slew him, and mostly because he really didn’t deserve them. He’d been there for her at his own convenience. He had been part of her life because it suited him. “You’re giving me credit I really don’t deserve. I’ve been a selfish prick, and now I’m throwing a tantrum because someone took my favorite toy away.”
She chuckled. “Maybe.”
