He sat on the edge of the bed, all the while listening to the excited chatter through the wall as she spoke to her mother.
Maybe the list wasn’t as important anymore? Maybe now that they’d begun a relationship, she’d changed what her goals were? She’d clearly changed her mind about the dancing.
But, a voice whispered in the dark recesses of his mind, if she’d let him believe he was the man she wanted to seduce, maybe she was keeping other truths from him too.
He pushed down the sick feeling rising in his throat. Yasmin believed in living in the moment, and right now that was with him.
But what if he’d gotten this all wrong?
Out of my league. He looked at the words on the list and his whole world began to crumble. She’d never intended this to develop into anything. She’d chosen a guy like him because they were so completely different, and that was the challenge. The thrill. She’d never seen him as someone she’d be compatible with in the long term. Could that be why she hadn’t wanted her family to know? The thought caused bile to rise in his throat.
Two weeks ago he might have agreed with her, but that was before. Before he’d really given in to her, before he’d watched her lying beautiful in sleep as the sun poured in the window. That was before he’d realized that he didn’t want this to end, that he loved Yasmin Katsalos and he didn’t want to just be a number on her road to happiness.
He stood and dragged on his clothes. There was only one option. He had to find out what she thought now, what was in her heart today, not what she’d scribbled on a list when she’d just escaped death.
He set his jaw. He’d believed in what they had. Was he the only one?
Chapter Twelve
“Got a minute?”
Yasmin turned from the waitress station where she’d been checking on stationery and menu folders.
“Only for you.” She smiled and moved over to Lane. It had been only an hour since she was wrapped in his arms, but it felt like a lifetime, and it was time she rectified that by falling into his embrace again. But as soon as she registered the distant look on his face, she stopped.
He held up the plastic wallet containing her handwritten list. “I read this. To the end.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. She’d thought he was going to say one of the VIPs had canceled for Sunday, or that they’d lost another wedding booking. She’d never actually shown anyone her list, but what did it matter now? “I know, embarrassing, right?” She brushed her hands on her dress and bent down to straighten one of the white tablecloths covering the new long tables. “It’s one thing to actually have a list, another to come right and tell people about it, but kinda demented to write it down and carry it around in its own little protective cover. I never expected anyone else to read it.”
He didn’t answer, so she slowly looked over the top of the table. He wasn’t smiling; in fact, he wasn’t moving at all. The look on his face remained as cool and detached as when he’d first walked in.
“What is it?” she asked, starting to feel the heat of his gaze burn into her skin. “You’ve always known I had it, and I’m pretty sure I told you what I’d written on it.”
He cleared his throat and tossed the plastic on the table. It was a dismissive gesture, so offhand and so unlike him that she took a step closer.
“I see there are a few more things to achieve, like learning Italian and going to Rome. Are those things still a priority?” His eyes were dull, the skin around his jaw tight. “Or have they changed in the last two weeks?”
“Yes, they’re still a priority,” she said carefully. “When I can make them happen.”
He frowned slightly. “Then I guess you’ve answered my question. You know, I thought I was on the list. I thought that was your whole reason for wanting to seduce me.”
“Lane, I—”
“But it’s not me at all, is it? It’s just someone like me. Someone who fits a predetermined set of features for a space in time. Let me remember correctly.” He spoke slowly. “‘Tall, dark, mysterious, and out of my league.’”
She frowned in confusion. “But that is you, Lane. You’ve become that person.”
He dismissed her protest with a single flick of his hand. “That wasn’t me on your list, Yasmin. That was some sort of cliché, some set of attributes that you could have found in any number of men. I should be glad you met me before Paulo.”
Yasmin’s chest hollowed. “What does it matter, anyway? I think what we have right now is much more than a silly number on a list. Why are you so upset?”
He folded his arms and pulled his back straight, and in that instant she had an incredible sense of déjà vu. He looked exactly as he had on the very first day she’d seen him in that tearoom—serious and closed, as if he were an icebreaker cutting a path through anything and anyone who’d see inside his heart.
In the last few weeks she’d watched his spine soften, the laugh lines on his face lengthen, and this flashback to the old Lane was heartbreaking.
“I don’t want to be discarded like a toy on a Christmas wish list. I was a plaything for my parents, Yasmin, and I opened up to you about that in a way I never have before.” The ice in his eyes melted for a moment and she saw the pain he’d been masking. “I refuse to be treated like that by anyone else in my life. Especially by you.”
He thought she was using him? After everything they’d been through together? “What we’ve had has been beautiful, Lane. Why would you think I was only playing with you?”
He looked straight in her eyes and she felt as if he was racing away from her. “Because I’m not the last thing on your bouquet list. I never will be. And you’ve always known that.”
Yasmin’s heart tripped in her chest. “What do you mean?”
He recited it as if he’d memorized it for eternity. “‘Find my artist lover in a country far away and spend the rest of our lives traveling, tied to nothing and no one.’ That’s not even remotely like me, is it?” The twist of his mouth was hard, cynical. “In fact I think we can agree that man is about as opposite from me as you could ever get.”
Why was he angry? Why had the man who’d carried her inside and held her so tenderly last night turned into the man standing before her? She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “Hang on—you were so reluctant to start anything with me, and now you’re angry because you weren’t on my list? I didn’t realize you wanted anything beyond what we have here.”
“Some of us don’t have lists of things we’d like to achieve, and people we’d like to conquer. Some of us like to live a life that considers how our actions affect others.” His voice was hard, and with his arms still folded against his chest like a shield, she could feel animosity radiating from him. “Some of us like to go where our heart is, whether that’s what we’d imagined in our path or not. You’re the one with the damned mindfulness bell. I’d have expected you of all people to get that.”
Yasmin felt the weight of her phone in her pocket and hoped to God it was switched to silent. Tears were pressing at the back of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them form. She’d hurt him. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d hurt this man she cared about so much. She stepped forward to touch him but his body language screamed at her to stay away.
“I wrote that weeks ago, Lane,” she said softly. “And I’ve changed it since. I crossed out learn to dance because when I danced with you I felt like I didn’t need lessons anymore.”
He was looking directly in her eyes, and something about his expression sent chills across her skin. “You’re telling me you don’t want a man who’s a free spirit, who travels where the mood takes him and lives with no ties to anything or anyone? Someone creative? Someone exotic, from a faraway land? Are you telling me you’d prefer to spend your time with a man who’s boring and serious, who’s committed to building a business and providing security for his family? You might have scrubbed out dancing, but the description of your perfect man is still there in black an
d white. And he’s not me.”
Unsure of where to put her hands now, she clasped them in front of her. “You’re not boring and serious, and I love how committed you’ve been to all of this. Look what we’ve achieved here, Lane. We’ve done this together. Two people who were on completely different trajectories have joined forces to create something that has the potential to pull my family back together.”
“But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? When things are on two different paths, they might cross at some point, but then they’re off their separate ways. And you always knew that would happen.”
She couldn’t get enough air to fill her lungs. Suddenly it was all crystal clear. No, he hadn’t understood that they could never work. While she’d been enjoying what she and Lane had in the here and now, he’d calculated something altogether different. Her knees wobbled. She’d been having a fling, and Lane had been starting a life together.
Grace and two people she’d never seen before stood at the restaurant door. “Oh, excuse us,” Grace said. The startled look on her face suggested all three had heard everything they’d just said. “We’ll just wait outside.”
Yasmin lowered her voice. “Can we talk about this privately? The press are here.”
“Maybe,” he said as he dug a hand in his pocket. “If you can look me in the eye and tell me that you can see a future for us.”
She imagined herself back at the Bluebird Club with his successful friends, and then her mind sprinted forward to them fighting over where to send their kids to school and Lane married to his job so he never saw his wife or children. And him being angry because she wanted to throw their savings away on a trip to Morocco or Gibraltar instead of trading their house in on a bigger place. They’d both be miserable. Why couldn’t he see that?
Another thought hit and she felt sick. What if he could see how mismatched they were, but there was another reason he wanted to be with her…?
“Is this about my family?” she asked, her voice tight. “Is this about you wanting to be a part of my family so much that you’re prepared to run headfirst into a long-term commitment with me?”
There were more voices outside.
He shook his head slowly. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Actually, no, I don’t get it.” He wanted more from their relationship than she did, that much was obvious, but it still didn’t make sense. She took a deep breath and let it out. The only thing that was clear was that she’d hurt him, and herself.
“I guess that’s it, then,” he said on a humorless laugh.
He twisted as if to walk away, but she reached out and touched him. “I never meant to hurt you, Lane. I just wanted—”
He turned back and gave a sharp nod. “Yes, it’s all about what you want, isn’t it, Yasmin? You go on and on about how you’ve been suffocated and sheltered your whole life, but you know what I think happened?” He planted his hands low on his hips. “I think you were spoiled. I think you were led to believe that other people were available for the sole purpose of adding something to your life. You might have talked yourself into believing that your list was about positivity and growth, but I think it was just another excuse for you to justify putting yourself first. It’s called selfishness.”
Yasmin stepped back as if his words had slapped her. She’d thought he understood her need to live her own sort of life now, not burdened with the expectations of other people, but that’s exactly what he was doing to her. “You think I’m selfish? You think that hiding yourself away from the world and pretending that your work is everything somehow makes you better than me?” Her body started to tremble. In fact, it seemed the whole world around her was trembling.
His eyes were wide and blazing, but his voice was low. “I told you my deepest secrets, Yasmin. About my parents, about wanting desperately for them to love me when the only thing they wanted was to make things better in their own lives. And now I find you were treating me the exact same way.”
She froze.
Oh, God, he’s right.
She’d made that stupid list, had wanted to seduce him, without thinking about how it would affect him. She had treated him like a toy, just as he’d accused her of doing. A tear escaped and ran down her cheek, but she ignored it.
“I never said I was anything other than what I showed you,” she said, her voice cracking. “I told you that this time was all about me, that for the first time in my life I was putting myself first. I’m not going to apologize for that. I just don’t understand why you’re so angry!”
“Why am I angry? Because I’ve fallen in love with you, Yasmin. I’ve fallen in love with a woman who doesn’t want a man like me. Who only ever wanted an illusion, something temporary she could use for her own selfish ends, and now she’s ready to go off and find the man who can really make her happy.”
All the breath drained from her body and she had to grab hold of the table next to her. “You love me?”
“Well, I loved somebody. I don’t know if it was the you from today, or an image that you wanted me to see, or whether it was someone you might change into tomorrow. But yes, I fell in love with the woman who brought life to the world around me, whose very existence filled my heart with joy, and who made me want to stop being sensible and just live each day as fully and with as much fun as she did.” He frowned. “Wait, what’s the name of that mushroom again?”
She could hardly make her mind turn back to a life that seemed to be a million light years ago. All she wanted was to be back in her bed with Lane, laughing and teasing, touching and whispering, not hurting each other.
She swallowed to make her voice work. “The amethyst deceiver.”
“Yes,” he said, as if he’d finally found the answer to every question he’d ever had in his life. “When you first told me, I thought it sounded so mysterious and sexy, something that people notice because it stands out in a crowd. And crazily it reminded me of you.”
Another tear slipped down her cheek at the harshness in his voice and she brushed it away.
“But there’s a reason it’s called a deceiver, isn’t there?” Lane said, taking a step closer. “It’s because over time it fades and can’t be distinguished from all the other fungi, despite early appearances. Turns out that deep down, it’s just like all the rest.”
He stopped speaking and an empty, terrible silence filled the room.
The weight of Lane’s expectation crushed against her chest and she struggled to pull in her next breath. What if she could have it all? What if she could be who Lane wanted her to be and be true to herself at the same time? What if they could maintain this relationship and give each other what they wanted?
“Let’s leave here,” she said in a rush. “Let’s leave behind the pressure of my family’s troubles and our history. Let’s go travel the world and do what we want when we want to do it. Let’s not stifle each other or expect too much. Let’s just go where the mood takes us, living in the present—with each other—and see what happens.”
Lane let his hands fall open in front of him and for a blissful, perfect second Yasmin thought he was going to step into her arms.
His gaze held hers for one long moment. And then he shook his head. “Are you serious? We can’t walk away from this now. There are people counting on us. We’ve made a commitment. Why can’t you see that it’s not practical to throw away your studies and flit from place to place? You’re not an island, Yasmin. You have standards to live up to and people who depend on you. And I have a dream about to be realized in Manhattan with people depending on me for their livelihood.”
He was just the same as everyone else. He made her want to scream with his regimented ways and his belief in doing the right and sensible thing. “You’re no better than my family,” she said. “I don’t need one more person telling me how I should behave and what I should do with my life. I thought you were different, Lane.” She could feel the tears rushing into her eyes. “Maybe that’s all you’ve ever wanted from me. To be back as
part of this family. Well, you’re not my family and you never will be.”
She may as well have hit him with bullets. His eyes clouded with pain, and she could feel him draw away.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice seemed pathetically small. When the words had formed she hadn’t considered how harsh and cold they’d sound when they were swirling around the room.
“I don’t want sorry.” His voice was calm now, and she could see his face slowly transforming back to the Lane she’d met again on that very first day in the tearoom. The serious brow, the determined look, the aura that said “stay away, you’ll never get to know the real me.” “I just wish I’d never set eyes on you or your goddamn list.” She watched, tears blurring her vision, as he turned and slowly walked out of the restaurant and into the courtyard.
She watched through the window as he marched toward the group of press assembled in the courtyard, and her heart slowly turned to ash. When the sound of his footfalls had faded to nothing, Yasmin reached out for the little plastic cover and, with trembling fingers, pulled out the list inside. How could something so small and innocent, something that had started out so positive and exciting, be the cause of so much heartache?
Chapter Thirteen
The next afternoon, exhausted from battling the overwhelming emptiness inside her, Yasmin sat alone in the apartment and stared out the window.
She hadn’t seen Lane since he’d confronted her about the list yesterday, and it was killing her. She’d known he’d want space, so had waited as long as she could, then early this morning called to ask if they could talk. There was no answer, just a very formal recorded message from the serious and closed person she’d met in the tearoom a lifetime ago, nothing like the voice of the witty and loving man she’d come to know in the past two weeks.
Suddenly, her phone rang and she dived on it, but when she saw Nick’s name on the screen her heart dipped.
“Hey,” she said when she’d connected.
The Bouquet List: a Weddings in Westchester novel (Entangled Bliss) Page 15
