Possibly he was freaking out.
“It’s not too late,” his British friend warned, his tone scarily serious. “You’ve been down this road with plenty of women. If it’s time to insert some distance, you know how to do it. Is it time?”
Gage let out a choking sound. “You make it sound like there’s a lot of them. I date less than you do.”
Deflection was the best tactic whenever backed into a corner.
“I date because I’m great at it. You date because you like being part of a couple.”
Gage blinked at his friend. He liked having company, yes, but the “part of a couple” accusation wasn’t true.
Was it?
Andy had accused him of being a serial monogamist. He wasn’t like Reid, showing up with a new girl at every event, but neither was he Flynn and Sabrina, attached at the hip. Gage was somewhere in the middle. A “gray area” when it came to women in general and relationships at large.
“You’re quite good at having girlfriends. Women like you so bloody much.”
“They’re not girlfriends.” Aware he sounded like a twelve-year-old, Gage stopped slumping and sat straighter on his stool.
Reid smirked. “Well, they’re different from hookups, which is what I’m best at.”
“You’re bragging about being forgettable, Reid.”
“Not forgettable. Just...unkeepable.” He nodded, happy with his own conclusion.
Gage had sworn to uphold the pact in part for Flynn, but also for himself. After his engagement imploded and Laura left, Gage never wanted to feel that unmoored again.
Success was important to him in all things. In school, he’d graduated with a 4.0 GPA—even though it meant working harder to lift his suffering grades. When he dated Laura and determined she was as ambitious as he was, it was a perfect match. He’d known she was The One.
Until he didn’t.
Laura had come at him with a whopper of an announcement just one month after announcing their engagement. He wasn’t good enough for her. Wasn’t as successful as she wanted him to be. Worse, she said he never would be. “You don’t want to be in a partnership where your wife is earning more than you, Gage.”
It rankled him that she thought he’d care about how much money she earned, and how it compared to his salary. That he’d be that shallow. And then it rankled him all over again that she’d basically hobbled him, telling him he couldn’t be as successful as her, when she knew damn well that success and Gage went hand in hand.
Nothing he’d said to that effect had changed Laura’s mind. Her mind was made up when she’d invited him to that diner for lunch. She’d set the stage for a public breakup, and had pulled out an actual bullet-pointed list. She’d read from the notebook, never stopping to look at him.
On the surface they’d seemed like a good match, but Laura found him too “casual” and not serious enough for her taste. “We’re too different,” she’d told him. He’d learned that day that she was right about that. Gage was a human being with real feelings and a heart, while Laura was a cyborg with faulty programming.
It was the biggest failure of his life, that relationship—the engagement that never produced a wedding. He’d been certain of a future with Laura. One that stood the test of time like his parents’ marriage. Being that wrong had thrown him. It wasn’t any wonder he’d leaped into the pact the way he did...twice.
Failure in business happened, of course. He wasn’t so delusional he thought himself impervious to stepping in it now and again. But failing with relationships was trickier to pull out of. His grades had temporarily dipped when Laura and he split. His social life exploded, and he’d chosen to go to parties instead of study. Hookups were a tack he tried and failed at. He didn’t like meaningless flings. And yet he didn’t want to be roped in again by a woman who promised forever and backed out before giving him a chance to be a success.
Laura thought they were too different? Fine. He’d date fun-loving women who valued him for who he was. He’d back out before it became too much for either of them. It was hard at first, learning how to let them down easy and walk away whole, but he’d been successful at that, too.
Then came Andy.
Independent, driven, successful Andy.
Vulnerable, open, fascinating Andy.
The idea of them splitting sent his mind reeling. Made his stomach toss. He’d suggested they not end things and she trusted him. He cared about her and didn’t want her hurt. Would she carry his rejection with her like a wound? Or would she harness her driven, independent side and soar without him?
Option B was the only option. He couldn’t even think about leaving a scar as deep as Matthew Higgins and his “Ice Queen” comments. Andy was better than that.
But she was also better than sticking around with a guy who wouldn’t give her what she ultimately deserved.
Forever.
He’d seen the way she looked at her sister, Gwen, at the wedding. Andy might not be able to admit it to herself yet, but Gage could tell she was a woman who wanted to be married someday. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow himself to take those vows.
A sigh came from the depths. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t let Andy settle for less than she deserved any more than he could string her along. Their relationship would end eventually. And maybe if he ended it sooner it’d save them both a lot of heartache.
His chest seized at the thought of not seeing her or holding her again. Of not kissing her ever again. He’d miss her like hell. He already felt like part of him was tangled up in part of her. He couldn’t let his unreliable heart call the shots, though, arguably, he’d already let it call a few.
No part of this was going to be easy. He already cared about Andy ten times, hell, one hundred times, more than he’d cared about Laura. And he’d been in love with Laura.
Or so he’d thought.
It was possible, even probable, that he’d been fooled into thinking what he was feeling for Andy was deep, unfathomed and long-lasting. As if he’d been glamoured by the couples-in-love around him and had acted on what he thought was instinct but was more...conditioning.
And if he didn’t proceed very carefully, Andy could fall into the same trap.
At his elbow, Gage’s phone buzzed with a text message from her.
I have dinner for us. It’s Thai. Your place or mine?
Gage’s chest tightened when he thought of Andy’s bright eyes and strawberry-blond hair. When he thought of what he had to do he knew he had to do it before either or both of them said or did things that were unable to be taken back.
He realized now that he’d made a mistake not ending this after the wedding. He wasn’t too big of a man to admit he was wrong, even if he had let things go on for far too long. Andy deserved that same respect.
My place, he texted back.
His home turf would be better. Then she could storm out like he guessed she would. Drive to a girlfriend’s house and curse his name a thousand times over. There was no time like the present to recover from the misstep—before she expected more than he’d be able to give. Before she got in any deeper, or he gave her any wronger of an impression about himself.
He pulled money out of his wallet to pay and Reid’s eyebrows rose. “Duty calls? Or should I say booty calls?”
Gage was so miserable he couldn’t crack even the smallest of smiles. “You’re not in the pact alone, Reid.”
“No?”
“No.” Gage shoved his untouched beer in front of Reid and nodded. “I know what I need to do.”
He’d been pretending, which was fun at first, but now it’d gone too far. It was time to wrap up this farce with Andy.
Past time.
Twenty
Andy had never been so cheery. Happy, sure. Contented, absolutely. But joyful, humming a tune as she strolled into the high-rise holding Gage’s posh apartmen
t? She couldn’t remember ever feeling this buoyant.
She hadn’t been very good at balancing her time at work and her time with Gage. Tonight she was going to make it up to him. She was ambitious and she was driven and, frankly, didn’t have a lot of experience including another person in her plans.
Andy wanted to include Gage for one simple reason: she loved him.
She was certain of it.
She’d been ordering shrimp pad thai and basil fried rice and it hit her as she paid for their dinner.
For the first time in a long time, she was half of a whole.
As unexpected as it was, and in such a short period of time, she’d fallen in love with Gage Fleming. She hadn’t seen it coming but now that it was here, she welcomed it. As much as she contended that she didn’t need anyone, she needed him. And what’s more was that she didn’t mind needing him. It didn’t make her feel weaker or less independent. She felt stronger for it.
Love.
She finally was beginning to understand what all the fuss was about.
Excited about her newfound discovery, she’d grinned at the cashier and said, “My boyfriend and I are having dinner together.”
The cashier smiled quizzically but wished her well, having no idea the monumental shift that had occurred in the ten minutes Andy sat in the restaurant and waited for her takeout.
Falling in love was monumental. And even though it was after nine o’clock, and even though the food was greasy Thai instead of a five-star meal, Andy was certain of her feelings for Gage.
She couldn’t wait another second to tell him how he’d changed her. There’d even been a stray thought about how they could tell their grandkids one day about how they’d met. The bar story. It would kill!
Humming and happy, she pushed the number eighteen button in the elevator and rode to Gage’s floor. She’d tell him tonight. He deserved to feel as great and whole and happy as she did.
She stepped out and admired her surroundings. The building Gage lived in was historical, with charming woodwork and brass handles on the doors. The lighting fixtures appeared original to the building, though Andy guessed they’d been rewired. Everything functioned and felt modern while at the same time throwing her back several decades. It was remarkable the way history worked. She was making some for Gage and herself tonight.
His apartment door was cracked, the soothing notes of jazz coming from inside. Andy knocked lightly before letting herself in. The entryway opened to a wide living room with a wall of windows letting in the moonlight. The couch was navy with deep red pillows, which had reminded her of Gwen’s wedding colors the first time Andy had been here.
It was a sign. She never would’ve thought that before tonight, but being in love had given her new vision. Who knew what a superpower that could be?
Gage stood in the kitchen beyond the living room, pouring wine into two glasses. Red.
The color of love.
Andy was so excited she was about to burst.
“Your dinner, sir.” She set down the paper sack and sidled over to kiss him. He delivered a kiss but his lips were firm and pursed, his brow a furrowed thundercloud.
“You okay?” she asked.
She lifted her wineglass and took a sip, wondering what it was that had turned Gage’s mood sour. Work, most likely.
“You go first,” she told him. “I had a not-so-great day at the office, too. I’ll commiserate with you.”
Her smile faded as a look of hurt crossed his features.
“Andy.” The way he said her name was ominous. A premonition of something horrible.
The food that had once smelled tantalizing and tempting now caused her stomach to flop like a dying fish.
“I’ve never lied to you before and I have no intention of starting now.”
“Oh?” Her hand shook, and her wineglass with it.
He pulled in a deep breath, paused to drink down half the contents of his glass and then faced her. He put the glass down. Then warm hands braced her biceps and a million alarms rang out in her head.
In a panic, she blurted, “I love you. I realized when I was picking up your shrimp pad thai that we belong together. What we have, this isn’t impermanent. This is the real thing. I know it’s fast and I know you have that pact, but Flynn ditched the pact for Sabrina. Do you know why?”
Gage’s expression teetered on mortified, but for Andy her dam had broken. She couldn’t stop talking now that she’d started.
“Flynn realized that being in love with Sabrina was more important than some silly pact,” she continued. “Sabrina was someone worth making new decisions for. Flynn wanted to move forward with her because he’d seen a part of her he’d never seen before. Gage. That’s you and me.” She didn’t dare slow down until she said the rest. “You were the one who excavated that part of me. I didn’t know how to be half of a couple. I didn’t know how to be in love. You were the one who opened those doors—who taught me how to love you.”
Her voice broke. She swallowed thickly and waited. She’d said what she’d come here to say, and as naively as a virgin bride on her wedding night, she expected him to have come to the same realization as she had. She hadn’t even considered that he didn’t feel the same way. How could he not?
She saw now that she’d been dead wrong. The evidence was written all over his stricken face.
“Say something.” Her voice was a broken whisper, her heart threatening to break right alongside it.
“We went to a wedding together,” he said. Bizarrely.
“Yes.” She let loose a shaky smile.
“And then Flynn and Sabrina announced their engagement. Shelly’s engaged, too, by the way.”
“Who?”
“Bartender at From Afar.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t following.
“I was engaged, Andy. And Laura ended that engagement because she didn’t believe in us. She was cold and calculated and completely dismissive of who we could’ve become.”
“I’m not.” Andy gripped his hands, trying to head off another argument before it brewed. “I’m forever material. I’m a single Payne sister—the last of my kind. You opened my eyes to the fact that I’m valued and worth it. You opened my eyes to a life outside of my business. You opened my eyes to love.”
“I can’t love you, Andy. I can’t let this go on any longer.” His voice was hard and tight, like the words were fighting being spoken. “It’s irresponsible.”
“You...can’t?”
“No.”
Such a final word. She dropped his hands and he backed away from her a step.
Backed.
Away.
“You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me, Andy. Hell, I’m not sure you are in love with me. You were caught up in your sister’s romantic getaway, and I’m sure Sabrina said something last night that made you think you were—and that’s not your fault. She’s in love. Completely smitten. She thinks everyone can have what she and Flynn have.”
For as gobsmacked as she felt, Gage might as well have reached out and slapped her.
“You think I don’t know if I’m in love with you?” Gage was deep in the danger zone and hopefully her tone was conveying that fact. “You think I was swept up in wedding bells and engagement rings rather than coming to the conclusion about my feelings on my own?”
“Yes—” his voice rose incrementally “—I do. So was I. Too caught up to recognize we were both flirting with disaster. I’m not too big a man to admit I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” she snapped.
“I never should’ve asked for more when I knew damn well I couldn’t be the guy to give you more. Staying together is setting us up for a huge fall. A huge failure. I won’t keep you from your future husband and waste any more of your time. What we had at Gwen’s wedding was a perfect weekend. I should’ve left it
at that.”
Her hand twitched at her side. She’d never wanted to slap someone before. She did now. Just so he could feel the way she felt—like her stable footing had crumbled beneath her and she was in a free fall toward the cold, hard ground.
She settled for lifting her glass and throwing her remaining wine at him. Unaccustomed to being physically reactive, she sort of chickened out at the end and the splash fell short of his chest, landing on one side of his crisp white button-down shirt. Right about where the coffee stain was the day he’d talked her into letting him be her pretend boyfriend.
God. She’d never been so stupid.
“Bastard.” Tears threatened but she swallowed down her rioting emotions.
“I’m sorry.”
“The sorriest,” she agreed. “Enjoy your meal.”
She stomped out of his apartment without looking back, rode the elevator to the ground floor and marched to her car parked on the curb. She’d congratulated herself when she’d parked there, thinking how “lucky” she’d been to find the coveted space.
Lucky and in love.
“I’m so stupid,” she reiterated aloud as she turned the key in the ignition. She’d known in her heart of hearts that forever wasn’t for her. She’d let that doubt go, trusting Gage so implicitly that she’d agreed when he suggested they keep seeing each other. She’d allowed herself to believe the future was an open expanse with wildflowers blooming and horses galloping...
A fantasy.
One she wouldn’t let herself wallow in no matter what her stupid heart thought. She could be in love with him all she wanted, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t move on. Gage might’ve put the final nail in the “them” coffin, but she had the power not to allow him in ever again.
Maybe someday she’d find it in her heart to be grateful to him for teaching her how to open up and trust and love someone.
Today was not that day.
She drove home without a backward glance, lecturing her tear ducts most of the way. The moment she twisted the lock on her front door and she was safely ensconced inside her own dark apartment, those tears came anyway, and showed no signs of stopping.
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