“Have you wondered what would have happened if we’d met for the first time now?”
The pressure of his fingers increased. “Nothing would have happened.”
“Yes, it would. And because I’m no longer an idealistic teenager, I wouldn’t have pushed for more and scared the hell out of you.” She heard the harsh rasp of his breathing and carried on. “I wouldn’t have got so serious so fast. I’m not really interested in serious relationships anymore.”
“That’s because you married some loser who didn’t treat you well.”
“No. I married someone I didn’t understand.” Guilt stabbed at her, sliding between her ribs like the blade of a knife. “And it was over before I had a chance to figure any of it out.”
“Probably a good thing. You found a job you loved and traveled the world, none of which you would have done if you’d stayed married to me.”
“If we’d met for the first time now, all our baggage would be with other people.”
Unsmiling, he drew the pad of his thumb slowly over her cheek. “And?”
She tried to ignore the pounding of her heart. “And I’d make you an offer you couldn’t refuse. And before you freak out, I should tell you it would involve both of us naked and nothing more. Nothing deeper. No dreams and no promises. Just the moment.” She felt his fingers tighten on the back of her head and there was a fierce gleam in his eyes.
“You’d make the same mistake twice? I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
“You want the same thing, Zach. I know you do.”
“What do you want me to say? That I can’t look at you without wanting to nail you to the nearest flat surface? Of course I do.” His voice was husky, and still his thumb stroked across her cheek in a motion that fell somewhere between soothing and seductive. “You’re still the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Her stomach lurched. “Even in my pajamas with bits of the forest stuck in my hair?”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Especially that way. But it makes no difference. We’re not going to do this, Brit. Last time I was selfish. I thought maybe if I pretended to be the way everyone else was, I could have the things they had. But you can’t fake it. I can’t fake it. I’ve never got close to a woman. I don’t know how. I can give physically, but emotionally I don’t feel anything. That isn’t ever going to change.”
She was the one who had been selfish, not him. She’d been so crazy about him, been so desperate for it to work, she hadn’t stopped to wonder whether what was right for her would be right for him.
“How do you know it won’t change?”
“I know.” His voice was flat. “I learned to switch my emotions off a long time ago and I can’t switch them back on.”
“Because if you don’t feel, you can’t be hurt.”
His hand dropped and his gaze held hers in the semidarkness. “I don’t spend time analyzing the reasons.”
“But you do feel, Zach. You have made connections.” It was desperately important to her that he see that. “Friendships. You have Philip and Celia, Ryan and Alec. They care about you. Even Hilda! Plenty of people care about you. I know they’re not your family and maybe it’s because I was raised on this island, but I always knew growing up that family was more than your parents. Friends are just a different type of family. Em and Sky—they’re as much family as my grandmother was. When I look back over the things I’ve done in my life, it’s the people I remember as much as the places. I love knowing that there are people who have my back, and I have theirs. I’d do anything for my friends. That’s why I gave Em and Sky a key to the cottage.”
He gave a grunt. “They don’t need a damn key. They could have just pushed extra hard on the door to gain entry.”
She ignored that. “The key was symbolic. Castaway Cottage is a special place for all of us. And they’re not just my friends, they’re your friends, too. Emily will never forget that you were the one who flew her and Lizzy to the hospital when no one else would.”
“I’m on probation. They’re ready to kill me if I hurt you again.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“No. It’s not. And you should go to bed.”
She hesitated, the emotional side of her wanting to argue, the rational side telling her to do what he ordered.
“First I need to ask you something.” Something that she’d always wondered. “Why did you go through with the wedding? Because Ryan forced you to show up?”
“No.” There was a long pause. “Because part of me wanted to be that guy.”
“What guy?”
“The guy you thought I was.” Finally, he released her. “Now go to bed, Brittany.” And perhaps because he knew one of them needed to make the decision, he turned and strode away, leaving her staring after him, wearing his coat, her heart aching and her head full of questions.