My First Love Affair (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers Book 3)

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My First Love Affair (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers Book 3) Page 37

by Ali Parker


  “Mason, not now. I need some time,” she said, not turning to look back at me.

  I dropped my hands from her waist. “Got it,” I said, my voice gruff.

  I grabbed the bottle of Jack, got a new glass and poured it half-full. I snatched it off the counter and went into the living room. I wasn’t going to stay where she didn’t want me. The vision of my future I had evaporated before my very eyes. I wasn’t an idiot. I could see the writing on the wall. My mom had been right.

  Chapter 61

  Adelaide

  My guilt was going to make me crazy. It was far more than a monkey on my back. It felt like a damn elephant riding around on my shoulders and making me feel horrible. I couldn’t shake it. Just when I thought I was okay with moving in and giving my landlord my notice, the cold feet showed up and I was practically frozen. He’d called movers and cleaners and I hadn’t even told my landlord I was moving.

  I was screwed. Absolutely screwed. I had to talk to Mason. I hoped he would understand. I couldn’t keep stringing him along and faking my enthusiasm for moving in. He was all in, completely invested in the idea and I was not. I wasn’t even a little in. I was standing at the door with a scared look on my face and weighing the pros and cons. I admired Mason for being able to jump in with both feet, but that wasn’t me. I was never that person to throw all my cares and worries away and just do whatever popped into my head.

  I closed the dishwasher, glancing into the living room and seeing the back of his head over the couch. I knew I had pissed him off. We were supposed to be having a quiet dinner and I had been completely closed off. It hadn’t been intentional. I’d tried. I tried to be excited about our future of living together. I’d been faking it for too long. If my dad were around, he would have reminded me my sins will always find me out. I wasn’t sure if they found me, but I was about to confess. Clearly, I would never hold up well in a real interrogation.

  I poured myself a glass of wine and walked into the living room. I knew I was probably going to drop a bomb on a relationship I had been very happy in. I hated the idea of losing him, but I would lose him if I moved in. The only difference is it would be a hell of a lot messier if I was living with him when things went south.

  “Hi,” I said, sitting down beside him.

  He looked at me. “Hi.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  “For ruining dinner.”

  He slowly nodded, watching me with such intensity I practically shrank under the gaze. “What’s going on? Please don’t say nothing, because it is very clear there is something.”

  “We need to talk.”

  As the words echoed around us, I realized how ominous they sounded. I probably should have rephrased it to sound less like bad news.

  “That doesn’t sound good. I guess I already knew something was up,” he muttered.

  I watched his change in demeanor. The Mason I knew from months before emerged. His guard went up and I could see him going on the defensive. I had a feeling things were about to get very ugly. I had no one to blame but myself. I should have told him how I felt right from the very beginning.

  “Mason, I like what we have going,” I started.

  “But you don’t,” he shot back.

  “I do! I really do, but I’m nervous,” I blurted out.

  “Nervous about what?”

  “About moving in with you. It feels like it is all happening very fast. I’m not sure if I’m ready for things to move that quickly,” I said, not able to look at him while I spoke. His face was set in a scowl.

  “You don’t want to move in? Is that why you’ve been dragging your feet?”

  I gulped down the lump in my throat. “I haven’t actually told my landlord I was moving.”

  The silent bomb that followed my confession was palpable. He didn’t talk or move. I don’t even know if he was breathing.

  “I see,” he muttered.

  “Mason, I don’t know what I’m doing with all this. It’s all new to me. What if it doesn’t work out and I have nowhere to go? It took me forever to find that apartment,” I explained, hoping he could understand my hesitation.

  “You don’t want to give up your apartment because you’re afraid we’ll separate?” he asked, sounding fairly calm.

  “Yes. We’ve only known each other a short time. What if you decide you hate how messy I am or we both agree we aren’t compatible? We hardly know each other. I know it seems like we know a lot about each other but living together brings up a whole new set of issues. I want to make sure it’s right. I don’t want to risk what we have by rushing into anything. I don’t want to risk losing everything because I acted hastily and didn’t really think about my future,” I told him.

  I knew I was dropping a lot on him. It wasn’t my intention, but once I started talking, I couldn’t stop. The words kept flowing. I could almost see me drowning him with all my thoughts, fears and feelings. No man wanted to hear all of that.

  “What if I pay the rent on your apartment for three months? You’ll still have your place in case things don’t work out here,” he offered.

  I scowled. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I would basically only have one foot in the door. I would be able to run away when we got into our first fight. I wouldn’t truly be living here if all of my stuff was there.”

  “Move all your stuff here. Sublet it,” he said easily.

  I sighed, frustrated that he was completely glossing over the reasons behind my wanting to keep the apartment. He wasn’t reassuring me all would be well. He was leaving himself an out as well. He wouldn’t have to feel guilty when we broke up.

  “I just told you I’m nervous about things moving too fast and your solution is to keep my apartment as a backup?” I asked, hoping he could see what that meant.

  He wasn’t ready but he wasn’t going to come out and say it.

  “No. I don’t need a backup. I know this is what I want. I know I’m not going to change my mind a month after you’ve been here. I can feel this is right,” he said with vehemence.

  I looked at him, saw he was serious and felt all the more guilty. He wasn’t providing himself with a backup. He was doing whatever he could to convince me to take the leap. He was giving me a safety net so I would feel more comfortable.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “I don’t understand. What’s going on? Is there someone else?” he asked.

  My eyes widened. “No! Absolutely not! It’s not that. This is me having a panic attack. There’s a lot of pressure when you move in with your boyfriend. I don’t want to ruin this.”

  “You’re ruining it by breaking it off,” he shot back.

  I grabbed his hand. “I’m not breaking it off. I’m asking you to think about what you’re asking me to do. Aren’t you a little worried? What if it goes badly?”

  “I’m not worried. I know when something is right.”

  He was pissed and hurt. I could see it in his eyes, and it was killing me. “I don’t want to end this,” I said, hoping he understood that.

  “You should have said no. You shouldn’t have dragged it out for weeks,” he replied.

  I closed my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention. I kept thinking I would get over the nerves and be ready to move in with you.”

  “But you didn’t and instead of telling me, you were just not going to show up on Saturday,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  “No. That’s not true. I’ve been trying to find a way to talk to you about how I was feeling. It doesn’t come easy for me. Neither of us is big on talking about our feelings,” I pointed out.

  “Maybe not, but I do say what I want and what I don’t want. Have I done something that makes you think this isn’t going to work out?” he asked.

  “No. It isn’t that. It really is me.”

  He shook his head and got up from the couch, moving to stand in front of the windows with his back to me. I hated that we were in such an awkwa
rd place. Despite the minor bump in the road early on in our relationship, I had felt we were on the right path. Things had been so easy with him. I loved spending time with him and getting to know him better. I also liked being able to go home and have my own space. It made me feel independent. Mason was wealthy and had everything. I had only my independence and my tiny apartment. The coffee shop wasn’t even mine anymore. I shared it with him. I went from being me, alone and independent, to being one-half of a couple. My identity changed practically overnight and I needed a minute to process it all. I couldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t understand.

  “I’ll call tomorrow morning and cancel the movers,” he said, still not looking at me.

  It was time for me to leave. He obviously didn’t want to look at me or see me. I got it. I didn’t blame him. I rose from the couch and went to grab my phone, pulling up the Uber app to get a ride. I wasn’t going to ask him to take me home. I went into the bedroom and grabbed a couple things. I would get the rest later. For now, I needed to put some distance between us. My heart was breaking, and I didn’t want him to see it.

  I snatched my purse off the table and turned to look at him. He was still staring out the window. “I’m going to go,” I said softly.

  He didn’t answer me or turn around for several long seconds. I hated that I had ruined everything. I studied his body, knowing it was likely the last time I would see him like this. The next time we saw each other, it was going to be the hard, cold Mason Bancroft I had loathed.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, his voice so low I almost didn’t hear him.

  “I don’t know. I should have.”

  “I would have understood or at least, you could have told me and made me understand. Instead, you lied and played me for a fool,” he said, slowly turning around to look at me.

  “I didn’t play you. That’s not what this is. You’re the one making this into an all or nothing. I liked the way things were going. I wanted our relationship to evolve naturally. I feel like you’re forcing this to happen and it’s too fast. I don’t understand why it has to be on your schedule. What about me?” I said, my sadness and guilt turning to anger and frustration.

  “I don’t know what to think. I honestly don’t. You led me to believe we were in a different place in our relationship.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll see you later,” I mumbled and walked toward the door.

  “I’ll drive you home—to your apartment,” he said, making sure his meaning was clear.

  “I’ve already called a car,” I said and walked out.

  I shouldn’t have been mad, but I was. I partially blamed him for doing this. He’d pushed hard. He hadn’t given me any time. Technically, that wasn’t entirely true. He did ask and I could have said no, but I had felt pressured into saying yes. I only had myself to blame for the current situation. If I had been honest and told him I wanted some time to think about his proposal, things might not have ended up the way they had. I had made a huge mess of things.

  Chapter 62

  Mason

  I stared out the window for several long minutes after Adelaide left. I had fooled myself into believing there was such a thing as a happily ever after. I should have known better. It was all bullshit. Adelaide had been having fun, enjoying the perks of our relationship and when I flipped the switch to take it from fun and playful to serious, she’d bolted. It was my biggest fear realized. I had been rejected and it stung.

  My knee-jerk reaction was to grab the keys to my bike and take off. Then I remembered my bike was destroyed. I could take the Harley and ride away, but it wasn’t the same. I didn’t want to run from it. I wanted to figure out what the fuck had happened and fix it. I ran a hand over my face, trying to wipe away all that had been said.

  I knew I was part of the problem. I had pushed too hard. Dalton had warned me, but I had been too stubborn to listen. I had somehow gotten it into my head that she would go along with it. I had skipped over about a million milestones and jumped right to the good stuff.

  I couldn’t stay in my apartment. I had to get out or I was going to lose my mind. I found my phone and called Dalton, hoping he was still in town.

  “Hello,” he answered.

  “Where are you?” I asked, not interested in pleasantries.

  “Uh, home. Am I supposed to be somewhere else?” he asked.

  “No. I need a drink,” I blurted out.

  “I’m guessing you have plenty to drink at home. You’re bored, on a Monday night? Where’s Adelaide?”

  I growled low in my throat. “Meet me at Winnie’s in thirty minutes.”

  “Ouch. That bad?”

  “Yes,” I snapped, not interested in getting into the ugly drama over the phone.

  I ended the call and stomped away to grab my keys before I remembered I’d had a few and I was intending to have a lot more at the restaurant. I wanted to get shit-faced. It was my solution to all that ailed me. I wanted to block out everything that had happened in the last hour. I could pretend it didn’t happen and go back to life as usual.

  I called the service I used on occasion for driving me around. I didn’t want an Uber. I wanted someone who would keep their mouth shut and just get me to the restaurant and then take my drunk ass home. With the car on the way, I headed downstairs to wait. I couldn’t be in the apartment any longer.

  It was exactly twenty-seven minutes later when I walked into Winnie’s. I was escorted to a table. I ordered a shot of tequila with a beer chaser and waited for Dalton. He showed up about two shots later, which was technically only about ten minutes.

  He eyed the empty shot glasses on the table. “Shit,” he muttered, taking a seat.

  He ordered his own shot with a beer chaser.

  “Yes, oh shit,” I mumbled.

  “What happened?” he asked with concern.

  “I fucked up. Are you surprised?”

  “How did you fuck up? I assume we’re talking about things with Adelaide?”

  I sighed, rubbing my jaw before taking another drink. “Yes, we’re talking about Adelaide. I think she left me.”

  “You think?”

  “She doesn’t want to move in with me,” I confessed.

  The waitress brought his drinks and another shot for me. I quickly slammed it, the liquor finally giving me the buzz I craved.

  “She told you this or you’re making an assumption?” he asked.

  “She told me.”

  He winced. “Oh. Ouch. I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” I muttered.

  “Did she say it was over?”

  I shook my head. “No, but she doesn’t want to move in. She said it was too fast and then she left to go to her own place.”

  “That doesn’t mean it’s over. I don’t want to say I told you so, but it was a little fast,” he reminded me.

  “Why didn’t you stop me?” I groaned.

  He chuckled. “As if that is even possible. Once you’ve got something in your head, that’s it. There’s no bringing you back.”

  “You could have tried harder. You could have told me she’d end up leaving me,” I said.

  “I didn’t know, and I don’t think you can say she left you. She went home tonight. Give her some time to figure out what she wants. I told you with all the stuff going on at the shop and then at home, it’s got to be overwhelming for her,” he reasoned.

  “Why didn’t she tell me she was overwhelmed? Why didn’t she tell me she didn’t want to move in? She went along with it. She didn’t say shit about it. She let me believe everything was okay,” I said, growing angrier by the second.

  Dalton took a long drink from his beer. “She should have been honest about what she was feeling. She should have told you she wasn’t ready. But now it’s too late for that. It does no good to dwell on what didn’t get said or done.”

  “I don’t think I’ve been too overbearing with her. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for her. She never gave me any indication I was coming on too str
ong.”

  “I don’t think she thought you were. From what I gathered being around the two of you, she was happy. Deanna told me Adelaide was very happy. Do you think maybe she wanted to move in and was just as excited about the idea until reality set in?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I honestly have no idea. Everything I thought I knew doesn’t seem to be true.”

  “You’re jumping to conclusions. You’re basing your entire relationship with her on a single moment, a single conversation. You guys both tend to run hot and cold in the blink of an eye. You both have quick tempers and tend to think the worst of everyone. You two are so much alike, I imagine this little disagreement borne of confusion and uncertainty is only the beginning. It doesn’t have to be the end of everything,” he said, sounding very wise.

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just can’t help but think I really fucked up. I don’t know how to do any of this. I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve been winging it, hoping everything would just kind of fall into place. It was too easy. I should have known it was too easy. I saw what Jack went through. He literally walked through hell to get his woman.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a great measuring stick when it comes to defining a good relationship. You and Adelaide already had your own struggles. Hell, the two of you hated each other for years. I think that’s the hell you were referring to. You paid your dues,” he assured me.

  “Did I? I mean, maybe it wasn’t enough,” I said.

  “You have. This is the first time since I’ve known you that you’ve fallen for a woman.”

  I looked at him. Part of me wanted to automatically reject his idea that I had fallen for her. I couldn’t deny the truth. I had definitely fallen for her. I thought about my life before her and what my life would be after her. I didn’t want to live that life. I wanted her. I had decided weeks ago I didn’t want to live a life without her.

  “I did fall. I fell hard. I’m not sure how it works from here. I just assumed the next step was to have her move in. I mean, I could have moved in with her, but have you seen her place?” I said, wrinkling my nose.

 

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