I nod once. ‘I guess it does.’
His eyes soften. There’s sympathy in his expression. Not joy. Not delight. ‘Neither of us wants that.’
‘Oh, really?’ I prompt, my smile lacking humour. ‘I thought that’s exactly what I want, hence the fact I’ve brought it up in this awkward as arse conversation.’
He laughs then, but it’s more a sound of rebuke.
‘This has been more than I expected, Grace. Sleeping with you... I mean, it’s blown my mind. I love being with you. But we both knew what we wanted. It’s been great.’
‘But now it’s over,’ I finish for him, wondering if saying the words should somehow make it easier to accept.
He compresses his lips. ‘Don’t do this.’
‘Do what?’
‘Act like we both didn’t know it was coming to this.’
‘I did. We both did. I thought I just wanted...a few days. Fucking you, forgetting him.’
His jaw tightens.
‘But the idea of never seeing you again is making me feel ill. You can’t say you don’t feel the same.’
He shakes his head, looking past me and, even though he’s not speaking or reacting, he’s angry—I can just tell. ‘Do I want to see you again?’ He drags his hand through his hair and then looks at me, his eyes brimming with frustration and impatience. ‘Sure. I want to see you again.’
My stomach scrunches.
‘I want to cancel my flight and drag you to bed right now, fuck you until I can’t see straight, listen to you shouting my name, listen to you come, watch you die a thousand deaths of pleasure.’ He shakes his head. ‘But then what? What next? When does it end?’
Be brave. ‘Who says it has to end?’
He swears under his breath. ‘That right there’s the problem. You want the happily-ever-after fairy tale—and you deserve that—but I’m not the guy to give it to you. I’m not that guy.’ He says it again, emphatically, shaking his head for added conviction. ‘I’ve probably never been that guy and, even if I was, even if there was a shred of me that believed in all that crap, my marriage woke me up to the real world.’
‘I’m not your ex-wife.’ My voice trembles a little. ‘I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything except you.’
‘You want me to give up my life and move here, to be with you. You want me to be someone who believes in weddings and marriage and babies and growing old together, swinging on some porch seat.’
A fine blade seems to be jabbing under my ribs, running along the edge of my heart. ‘I want you to be that—for me.’
His eyes narrow. ‘You want me to be what your ex wasn’t.’
‘He is that guy.’
He shakes his head. ‘You want me to make you feel better about yourself. You want to think someone wants to marry you.’
‘Christ, Jagger, I’m not expecting you to propose. I’m not suggesting we get married. I’m just saying I don’t want this to be over.’
‘But you want marriage, babies, the works. And I’m telling you, I’m not capable of giving that to you.’
And it’s like my skin is being ripped off my body because he’s saying exactly what Gareth said, before he fell head over heels in love with someone else and married her.
Jagger is saying he doesn’t want to settle down, but is it really just that he doesn’t want to settle down with me?
Tears sting my eyelids now. ‘Why not?’
‘Pick a reason!’ he snaps, and then softens his voice. ‘I don’t want that, Grace.’
‘Not with me?’