“Never mind.” The words didn’t want to leave her mouth, but she pushed them out. “You’re right. You should go. I’ll call you a cab and have it pick you up in front.”
“Wait, Chloe. I can stay until—”
“I know what you’re doing, and I don’t need that. I need to work this out on my own.”
His gaze dropped, as if he could hide his intentions.
“I’m fine, Max. I’ve been living like this for weeks now. It’s no big deal. My parents will be relieved if I come stay with them. That’s a good idea. They’ve been worried.”
“Damn it, Chloe, I want to stay. I swear I want to stay. But that’s the problem. I have this need to help, and I promised myself I wouldn’t do this anymore. It’s why I stopped dating. Why I stopped even looking at women. Living like this, it’s killing me.”
Like this, he said. Not like that. Like this.
She didn’t try to defend herself. How could she? She wanted him around for the same reasons those other women had. She was using him for his sweetness and his body and his beautiful way of worrying about her. Just like the others.
But unlike the others, Max had been honest with her. And she owed him something more than falling at his feet and begging him to stay. Her panicked mind formed the argument: You just got here. You came to me. Please stay.
And he would.
Chloe pushed past him to start picking up the remnants of their night together. The clothes he’d stripped from her body. The wineglasses empty next to the bed. The high school yearbook he’d spotted in one of the boxes and insisted on paging through. “You have to stop somewhere, Max. As you said, you can’t keep living like this. Now is as good a time as any.”
She grabbed her phone and asked the Directory Assistance operator for the phone number of a local cab company, the whole time praying that Max would grab the phone from her hand because he couldn’t bear to leave. But he didn’t touch her.
Chloe ordered the cab, then turned slowly to face him. “Believe me, I’d get out if I could. I understand.”
“I want to stay,” he said softly. “You know that.”
She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to separate his attraction to her from his need to rescue damsels in distress. Maybe he did like her, but he had to hate her a little, too. Just as she found herself hating him a little. He’d taken care of all those other women, so why the hell did he have to take a stand with her? Why couldn’t he just offer his support?
She set the phone carefully on the table, afraid if she moved too quickly she’d fall apart. “Dispatch said it would only be three minutes. There’s a driver nearby.”
“Chloe…”
“Just go, Max. Wait inside the gate. They won’t be able to bother you there.”
He pulled her into his arms, but she stayed stiff. If she put her hands on him, if she tilted her head up for a kiss, she’d start crying. She’d weep and wail and beg him not to go. Max would stay if she asked him to, but that would be like asking someone to love you. A cheap and petty ruse that left you lonelier than you were before. And if you asked someone to love you, wasn’t that a guarantee he never would?
His arms fell slowly, as if he were still waiting for her to change her mind. “I’m going to stay here in Richmond, okay? In case you need me.”
“Need you,” she repeated dully. Hurt hardened into convenient fury. “In case I need you? Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Regardless—”
“I’m not some wilting flower looking for a protector, Max. I’ve done this on my own. I got through my fiancé dying. Then I got through the suspicions that he wasn’t dead at all. And the humiliation and betrayal of being exposed to everyone. And now…whatever the news is on Monday, I’ll get through that, too. What’s the alternative? Should I scream at the world to stop and let me off?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant, you arrogant asshole. Yeah, I wanted you here. I admit it. But I didn’t want a big strong daddy to take care of me. I wanted you here as an equal, but I guess you’re not up for that.” She knew her anger didn’t match what he’d done. He owed her nothing, not time or caring or even respect. But she had to put space between them or he’d stay and she’d call him.
And she had more than enough anger inside her to muster up.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, looking a little lost in the face of her bitterness.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “You are. And you really should go now, because I don’t like you looking at my life as if it’s a fucking mess when you’ve been living a lie for thirty years.”
“Hey. My life has nothing to with this.”
“Not true. If you hadn’t been screwed up for so long, would you be running away right now?”