Whatever opportunity she might have had to convince him was over. When he turned, his face was as cold a mask as she’d ever seen. He thrust a stack of papers at her. “You better get these down to graphics,” he told her. “They’re waiting for them.”
She slammed the office door on her way out.
CHAPTER TEN
DELILAH’S PHONE RANG every five minutes the entire way home. She ignored the calls. She wasn’t in the mood to update Chloe or Larissa and she knew it wasn’t Simon calling. Even if by some miracle it was him, she thought as she jammed the key into her building’s front door, he could go to blazes. This was wrong.
She hated him. Hated him so badly her heart felt like someone stomped on it.
Oh wait, someone did.
For the second time in four days, she was going to bed haunted by Simon’s touch. Only this time there wouldn’t be a repeat occurrence. Not unless he suddenly realized he wasn’t protecting her heart by walking away.
Her phone started ringing again. “For crying out loud, this is ridiculous.” She fished the foolish thing out of her bag. “What?”
“Delilah?”
Great. Just what she needed. “Hey, Mom.”
“Is something wrong? You sounded upset when you answered.”
Delilah could feel a smile kicking into her voice automatically. Ready for another round of “everything is wonderful.” “I...”
Not this time. She was tired of pretending everything was wonderful just so her mother wouldn’t be sad. Why should she get a free pass when Delilah didn’t? “Actually, Mom, things are pretty lousy right now.”
“What happened? Did something go wrong on your business trip?”
“Oh no! My business trip was fantastic,” she drawled. “Best seventy-two hours of my life.” She punctuated the sentence by slapping her pocketbook on the coffee table. “It’s all your fault, too. You and your stupid missing pieces and soul mates. They’re a joke. They sound so wonderful and romantic, but they’re just big fat lies.”
Plopping down on her sofa, she kicked at the throw pillows to make room for her legs. Was she being fair? Probably not, but she didn’t care. Simon’s rejection crushed her and she wanted someone else to feel as bad as she did. After all these years of wearing a happy face for her benefit, her mother had earned the honor.
On the other end of the line, she heard her mother let out a long breath. “Do you feel better now?”
“You’d like me to say so, wouldn’t you?”
“Only if it’s true.”
Delilah barely contained her snort. “Right.”
“Is that what you think about me? That I don’t want to listen to your problems?”
“‘All I want is to know everyone is happy,’” she quoted. “Isn’t that what you always say?”
“Because I’m your mother. It would break my heart to see one of you suffering.”
“And we all know what would happen then.”
On the other end of the line, her mother gasped. “Oh, Delilah...” she started in a sad, shaky voice. “When your father died, I...”
“I know.” She didn’t need to hear the story again. Her anger was already giving way to a heap-load of guilt. One sharp conversation and her mother broke.
“I was going to say, when he died, I handled losing him pretty badly. It wasn’t fair of me. You kids were your father’s greatest achievement and I let you all down. I let him down. I just missed him so much.”
Delilah was stunned. The last thing she expected was for her mother to agree. She plucked at the piping on the cushion, feeling a new heaviness. “We missed him, too.”
“I know. And I’m sorry that instead of getting to grieve your father, you had to help handle my grief. I should never have let that happen. Now it looks like I have something else to be sorry for, too. I never meant for you to feel like you had to pretend to be happy.”
She never told them not to. “Didn’t you think it was odd I never had any problems?” Delilah asked her.
“Honestly? I was simply proud of how together you seemed to be.” When Delilah didn’t comment, she must have felt the silent prodding, because she added, “All right, maybe I liked the fact you only had good news. It made life easier.”
“Same on this end. I always thought keeping a false front was easy, but I don’t know now.” Delilah let her head fall back. “All this honesty is exhausting.”
Although her mother certainly didn’t collapse into tears the way Delilah expected. Maybe it was okay to admit life wasn’t perfect.
She wondered if she could get Simon to realize the same truth.
Thinking about Simon ruined her mood more and she sighed.
“So,” her mother said, clearly hearing, “what’s this about soul mates?”
“I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have gone off on you.” It wasn’t her mother’s fault the man she thought was her missing piece didn’t believe he fit.
“Do you really think the whole concept is a lie?”
“No,” Delilah conceded. She believed the concept with all her heart. That was the problem. “But what do you do when your soul mate is afraid to be with you.”
“I would say he’s not really your soul mate then.”
Hard to imagine. She loved Simon more than she thought possible. Even tonight, angry as she was with him, she loved him.
“I can’t picture my life with anyone else,” she told her. “Worst part is I know he cares about me, too. He says he’s pushing me away because it’s ‘for the best.’”
“Maybe it is. Just because we love someone doesn’t mean the relationship is meant to be.”
Delilah’s heart sank at the thought. “No offense, Mom,” she grumbled, “but you’re lousy at heart-to-hearts.”
“Why? Because I’m not telling you what you want to hear?”
Ouch. Burned by her own mother. “He thinks I don’t know the real him, but I do. When I think of what Simon went through—”
“Wait a second, Simon? As in Simon Cartwright? What kind of business trip was this?”
“A real business trip,” she shot back. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Simon doesn’t think he’s worthy of a committed relationship and nothing I can say will change his mind.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Tell me about it.” She sank lower into her cushions. For a second, she was ten years old again, needing a hug to make everything better. “I’m sorry about yelling.”
“Don’t be. I obviously needed to hear it. Besides, you’re not doing anyone any good by keeping everything inside.”
Simon’s closed-off expression flashed before her eyes. “I’m not sure speaking up did me any favors, either. I said some things I shouldn’t have said when Simon and I were arguing and might have made things worse.” There certainly couldn’t have been more space between them in his office tonight if she’d tried.
On the other end, she could tell by her mother’s deep breath she wanted to say something. “What?”
“Did I ever tell you about Amanda Beary?”
“No.” Not that she cared at this moment either.
“She was a girl in your father’s econ class. Absolutely gorgeous in that milkmaid, farm-fresh kind of way. Half the school had the hots for her—your father included. About a month after your dad and I started dating, she asked him out.”
“And he turned her down.”
“No, he came to me, and told me he was ‘conflicted.’ I think that’s the word he used. I told him that he had to either be one hundred percent with me or not at all. In the end he decided his fantasy girl wasn’t worth losing what we had.”
More proof they’d been meant to be together. Just what she didn’t need. “It’s a sweet story, Mom, but what’s going on with Simon isn�
�t so simple.”
“Maybe not, but the point’s the same. Either a person is your soul mate or he isn’t. If the two of you are meant to be, you’ll find your way back to each other.”
Delilah was willing to bet the person who coined the phrase “meant to be” never threw her lover’s sexual assault in his face when they were arguing.
It’d be nice to say the long-overdue conversation made her feel better, but after hanging up with her mother, all Delilah wanted to do was cry. Largely because her mother had been right. Either she and Simon were meant to be together or they weren’t. So long as Simon failed to see his attack made him more of a man, not less, Delilah had to lean toward weren’t.
Since leaving the office, tears had threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. She let one slip through. The way she saw the situation, she had two options. She could maintain the status quo. Go to work every day, act like her heart wasn’t breaking and hope Simon had an epiphany.
She might as well have the word welcome tattooed on her forehead while she was at it. As much as she loved Simon, she couldn’t go back to being his faithful assistant while he collected society dates. Not after being his lover.
Meaning she had no choice but to select option two.
* * *
“Are you sure?” Larissa asked her the next morning.
“No.” She couldn’t be less sure of anything, but neither could she see any other way.
“Maybe if you gave him a few more days. He might change his mind.”
She smiled at her friend’s wishful thinking. “I’d need a lot more than a few days for that.” Lying alone in her bed last night, she’d realized the only thing that could change Simon was Simon himself. Who knew if that would ever happen.
In the meantime, she couldn’t afford to stick around to find out.
“If I stay, there’s too much chance I’ll repeat the same mistakes,” she told Larissa.
“I understand, but do you have to quit the agency altogether? Couldn’t you simply transfer to a different department? CMT’s a big company.”
Run by Simon. “You and I both know we’d be running into each other all the time.” Nothing but torment as far as Delilah was concerned. If she was going to move forward, she needed a clean break. “I’m better off quitting the agency altogether.”
“This place won’t be the same without you,” her blond-haired friend said. “Who’s going to help me deal with Chloe’s crazy crushes?”
“You’ll be fine. It’s not as though I’m moving back to Kansas. I’ll be a text message away. Plus, look on the bright side, now that I’m unemployed, I’m have more time for bridesmaid’s duty.”
Larissa laughed and held out her arms. “Well, when you put it that way...”
She pulled Delilah into her embrace. “Remember we’re here for you no matter what,” she whispered in Delilah’s ear.
Delilah found herself fighting back tears. Despite paying it cool and confident for Larissa, on the inside she was scared to death. Not only was she walking away from the man she loved, she was jumping back into the job pool, too. There was a good shot she’d end up with nothing.
She tightened her grip on Larissa. “Thanks,” she whispered back.
Then, taking a deep breath, she walked down the corridor to Simon’s office.
One last time.
* * *
She found Simon’s door ajar and him arranging the objects on his desk into straight lines. Naturally fate had to give one last stab by having him look more handsome than ever. His fawn-colored suit and pastel shirt were impossibly light. She wondered if he chose the combination on purpose to signal a new start. He’d gone swimming this morning, as well. His collar bore the telltale dampness.
Once upon a time, she would have knocked for fear of approaching him unaware, but not today. “We need to talk,” she said.
A minute ticked by before he lifted his eyes. His expression remained closed to her, same as last night. “This isn’t the time,” he said.
“I only need a minute. You owe me as much after last night,” she added, shutting the door.
He looked about to argue only to reconsider. “Fine,” he said, attention focused on straightening his stapler. “Say your piece. It won’t change my mind.”
“If I thought it would, I’d remind you that multiple people against one isn’t a fair fight, and that I couldn’t picture anyone—let alone a fifteen-year-old boy—fighting under those circumstances.”
Even from across the room, Delilah could see his jaw muscles clench. “If you’re finished...” He turned away from her and began busying himself with his laptop.
“I quit,” she said.
There, job done. What followed was silence while Simon sat staring at his laptop.
“If you’re sure,” he finally said.
He didn’t even try to muster a protest. Delilah’s last spark of hope flickered and died. Maybe her mother was right; maybe she and Simon weren’t meant to be. Maybe he was nothing more than a blip on her way to lifelong happiness. Heavy as her heart felt at the moment, she didn’t think so.
One thing she did know was that if she had to walk away—and Simon’s inaction said she did—then she wasn’t walking away without the last word. Not this time.
“I love you, Simon,” she told him.
He immediately stood up and walked to the window. Putting his back to her, as though that would block the words. “Don’t.”
“Too late. My feelings aren’t going to change. You can tell me how unworthy you are, you can turn your back, you can swim a million laps to forget, but none of those things will change how I feel. How I’ll always feel. Believe me, I wish I could be like you, but I can’t forget this weekend happened—that we happened. I’ll tell you something else, too...”
While she’d been speaking, she’d crossed the room, forcing herself into his line of vision. She wanted him to see her when she said the next part. “What happened fifteen years ago doesn’t matter to me. If anything, what you endured made me love you more.”
“You can’t,” he said. His voice was soft, barely audible. That and the bright sheen in his eyes were the only signs her words meant anything. The rest of his face was an expressionless mask.
“But I do. You say you’re this broken shell, a coward hiding behind charm. Maybe that’s true, but it doesn’t matter to me. I still love you. Broken pieces and all. And I hate that you think you’re not worth my love because you are worth every damn ounce of feeling I have and more. Someday I hope you realize that.”
More silence. With every word not spoken, her goodbye gained resolve. “If, or until that happens, I can’t be around you. As much as I love you, I can’t be your doormat.”
“I would never...” But his sentence drifted off. He knew as well as she did the argument wouldn’t hold. So long as he tried to pretend their love affair didn’t happen, he would be stepping on her heart. Not on purpose, but stepping all the same. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. For a lot of things.” Sorry she had to leave, sorry he was letting her walk away. Sorry he couldn’t see the truth about himself.
There wasn’t much more for her to say. She longed to brush her fingers across his cheek one more time, but held herself in check. Touching would only make the separation more painful. God knew her heart hurt enough already.
“Goodbye, Simon. If you ever decide to forgive yourself let me know.”
She started to walk away only to have one last thought she needed to share before she left. “You call yourself a coward for not fighting that day. Refusing to fight when you’re outnumbered isn’t cowardice, Simon, it’s self-preservation. But letting those bastards keep you from having a true and full life now... If you ask me, that’s more cowardly than anything that happened in prep school.”
With that, she closed the door between them.
* * *
Simon couldn’t remember when the click of a door had sounded so loud. He stared at the smooth oak grain, silence roaring in his ears, and counted. One. Two. Three...
The door remained closed. Delilah didn’t come back.
A hand squeezed his chest, sucking the air from his lungs. He wanted to chase her down and beg her to stay. But his feet stayed rooted. It was for the best, her leaving. If she stayed, he’d have only hurt her again. Now at least she could find someone else. A man who could love her the way the way she deserved to be loved.
It’s for the best, he repeated. For the best. The hand squeezed tighter. Black seeped into his line of vision, obliterating everything but the closed door.
It was for the best.
Son-of-a—! He grabbed the first item he could and hurled it against the door. The stapler. It smashed and broke in two, leaving behind an ugly gash in the wood.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OH, FOR CRYING out loud. For the third time that day Simon shoved his chair away from his desk because the file he needed wasn’t in the system.
“Anna!” If his voice sounded suspiciously like a bellow, he didn’t care. “Why isn’t the first quarter buy in the system yet?”
He heard the squeak of chair wheels as he rounded the corner and found his new assistant already facing the doorway. Her eyes were wide with nerves. Big brown eyes that did not evoke sympathy. “I—I don’t know,” she stuttered. “I uploaded the new version this morning, just like you asked me to.”
Simon sighed. “Did you remember to double click Save this time?” The way her face fell was the only answer he needed.
“Sorry, I’ll upload the file now.”
“Please,” he told her. “I’ll be waiting.” For quite a while, too, if the way she was searching through the clump of papers on her desk was any indication.
The Man Behind the Mask Page 14
