I heard him walk over and sit down in the leather chair across from the couch. I wouldn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I’d mourned the man for a month, even though he wasn’t dead. But the loss of him leaving me for no reason felt the same as if he had.
“I’ll say it again, and calmly, one last time. Please leave. I have nothing to say to you.”
“Well, we don’t have to talk,” he said casually, as if it was completely normal for him to stroll into my home after vanishing on me weeks ago.
“Get the fuck out,” I screamed and threw my phone before whipping my head up to see him. I gasped at his appearance. He was thinner, with dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping, but he looked just as formidable, maybe even more so. And he didn’t move a muscle or flinch when I screamed.
I pushed up from the couch and stomped toward him, my wrath radiating off me. I felt the heat, the pain, the waves of vitriol running through my head. There was so much I wanted to spew at him. “Did you hear me?”
He frowned at me without moving a single inch. I could see love and remorse in his gaze, but I hated it now.
The only feeling I would have died for a month ago, I now wanted nothing to do with. The hole he’d made in my heart was cavernous. So dark I couldn’t find a step to stand on to save me, to help me climb out. I’d instead dug a hole in it and made a home. I was staying there. Staying away from him.
“I don’t want you here. I don’t want to see your face. I don’t want to hear your voice. Or feel your goddamn presence. Or smell your fucking smell!” My voice shook. “Get out.”
“Izzy, I think I’m going to stay,” he said as if he’d considered all options and this was his best bet.
“Gerald’s coming here.” I threw up my hands. “Gerald’s coming to say sorry and take me out for a drink. Can you imagine... a sorry?”
“Seems a bit ridiculous,” he had the audacity to say.
“You would think so, considering you can send a million dozen roses and not ever utter an apology to me.”
“What would I be sorry for?” he inquired, and I considered whether I could choke him out and win the fight with the rage that pumped through my veins.
“Do you really want to be here when he comes? He was hurt by your text. Not that it really matters. He can be hurt all he wants, but he’s also mad. For all I know, honestly, he might punch you. Quite frankly, I hope he does,” I threw out, trying to get him to leave. God, I was childish.
“I hope he does too.” Cade smiled at me, like he wanted to unleash something. And my body instantly buzzed to life.
I spun around, furious that I still reacted to him at all. I knew this wasn’t right. I hated how much I loved him. How much I always would. “I’m trying here, Cade. I’m moving on like you told me to.”
“I didn’t tell you that. I said to give it some time,” he murmured.
“Yes. And we can all assume—”
“Do you always assume things, Izzy? Because I never told you I hated you when we first met either, but you imagined that too.”
“Cade,” I took a deep breath in warning and paced away from him toward the kitchen. He got up to follow and leaned his hip on the counter as I pointed a finger at him. “You told me to move on.”
“But neither of us can.”
Those five words, said with such conviction, had me turning around like the girl fromThe Exorcist. If my head could have spun a full 360 degrees, it would have. Instead, on one heel, I made that turn, so slow and full of fury that I knew he’d better listen. “Take it back right now, Cade Armanelli. Iammoving on.”
“Shit, baby.” He cracked his knuckles as he looked me up and down. “You look more pissed than I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen you pretty mad. I’m trying not to be turned on, but don’t come near me or I’ll fold.”
The fact that he hadn’t answered my calls and had ignored my voicemails, then waltzed in here like nothing was wrong, had me seeing a red so bright I might have been blinded by it.
“You’ll— Are you kidding me right now?” I stopped, not willing to walk any closer. I couldn’t risk my heart wanting him when my mind knew better.
But both of us halted when there was a knock at the door. I was about to brush past Cade to answer it, but he grabbed my arm to say in a low voice, “I’ll be nice if I have to, Izzy, but I can only take so much.”
I ripped my arm from his grasp and glared at him. “You’ll take whatever I want—even if it means Gerald and I getting back together—considering we’re not even dating.”
That Armanelli man had the audacity to grumble like a little boy as he stomped over to the kitchen island stool and took a seat. “We could go back to being enemies, and I still wouldn’t allow that shit. He’d be a dead man walking.”
31
Izzy