His voice is so cold, I’m instantly chilled. “Is this about Saturday? Because honestly, I’m fine. It was a little bit scary, but nothing bad actually happened.”
“It isn’t about Saturday.”
Something about the way he says that makes my shoulders tighten. It means I’m not imagining things. There’s an it. A problem.
I have a feeling I’m about to get hurt.
“What is it, then?” I ask.
“I really don’t think we should do this right now—”
“Yes, we should.” I cross my arms and stand my ground. He’s going to tell me what’s going on, and he’s going to do it now.
He rubs his chin. “Saturday made me realize something. I crossed a line with you that I shouldn’t have.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “Skydiving was my idea—”
“It’s not the fucking skydiving,” he says, his voice low. He gets up and turns to the window. “I’m not what you need, Selene. I can’t be what you need.”
My chest tightens. “What are you saying?”
He puts his hands in his pockets and stares out the window. “I’m not right for you. I can’t be the man you need me to be.”
I stand there like an idiot, watching him, my mouth hanging open. He’s breaking up with me. He’s fucking breaking up with me.
Tears burn my eyes, but I swallow hard to regain my composure. I refuse to lose my cool in the office, no matter what happens. I take a deep breath to make sure I’ll be able to speak clearly.
“Why?” My own question takes me by surprise. It isn’t what I meant to say.
“I just can’t.”
“That’s not an answer.” I can’t keep the edge from my tone.
“It’s all I have. I made a mistake with you. We work together, and I pushed you into this. I shouldn’t have.”
“So, that’s it?” I ask. “You’re ending it, just like that?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, looking out the goddamn window.
If he won’t answer me, I won’t say anything else either. I turn and walk out the door.
By the time I get to my office, I’m shaking. I don’t even pretend I’m going to stay. I gather up my things and head straight for the elevator. My heart races and I feel like I can’t breathe, but I keep my face completely still. I’m sure I have massive resting bitch face right now, but it’s a hell of a lot better than breaking down in tears in front of everyone I work with.
I get home, and rather than feeling like I need to have a sob fest on my couch with a bottle of wine and a tub of ice cream, I’m strangely calm. Empty. I’m hollowed out, like I left everything in Ronan’s office. He gutted me with those words, and didn’t leave enough behind that I can feel anything anymore.
Usually when I get dumped, the first thing I do is call Kylie. She comes over and we drink too much and badmouth the asshole who screwed me over. But this time I leave my phone in my purse, and don’t even text her.
This time, it’s different. Ronan was different.
I’ve heard men tell me they were crazy about me. I’ve had men promise me the world. Even when I thought I was crazy about them too, I never really believed them. Deep down, I saw them for who they were. I knew they’d wind up leaving me. But when Ronan said it—when he said he loved me—I actually believed him.
Out of nowhere, the tears come. I sink down onto my couch and close my eyes, letting them trail hot tracks down my face. I’ve never been hurt like this before. Not by the guy who was cheating on me. Not by the guy who ditched me for his ex while he was on a date with me. Not even by the guy who planned to move in with me, then decided he couldn’t handle the commitment. I thought I’d had my heart broken before, but none of those men had my heart to begin with. They couldn’t break it. I was disappointed and hurt when those relationships ended, but I was usually more upset with myself for trusting them in the first place.
Ronan had my heart. I bared my soul to him, offered him all of me. I thought he wanted it. I thought he’d take care of me, be gentle with my fragile pieces.
Apparently he can’t.