Camera Shy (Lessons in Love, #1)(5)

“When did you meet her?”

His eyes stay locked on his lap. “Right after I bought that ring. Avery, I’m sorry. But honestly, are you happy? Are you excited about the idea of a future together or tolerating it?”

“Tolerating?” That’s what you’ve been doing with our relationship? Tolerating it?

I ignore the twisting and writhing in my gut, telling me I don’t want to dig deeper. No more truths tonight—I can’t handle it. But I ignore my instincts. “Are you not attracted to me?”

“You are the perfect woman in every single way…” He ducks his head, ashamed. “Except the way that matters to me the most. I tried to get past it. You were always on the cusp of being beautiful, but then the business started and I handled my stress by working out and you handled it by…”

Eating. It’s the word he wants to say. But while he already dug his grave, I don’t think he’s dumb enough to crawl into the open casket.

I narrow my eyes. “I gained eight pounds, Mason.” Fuck you.

“It’s not just the weight. It’s how you dress…or don’t. You never put on makeup. We live off of garbage takeout food. We’re sloppy. There’s nothing sexy or appealing about the way we are around each other and I couldn’t say anything without sounding like an ass. I know how this all sounds, but I can’t help how I feel. I was panicking about committing to our lifestyle forever. It wouldn’t last. We’d end up divorced in a few years, and isn’t that worse than this?”

I raise my voice, incredulous. “Worse than pretending like you loved me for four years?”

He blows out a breath and checks over his shoulder, seeing if my loud response has attracted any attention. “I wasn’t pretending. I loved y—I love you. I just don’t think we’re meant for each other. Avery, I never wanted to hurt you.” He actually looks sincere, which makes this entire conversation ten times worse. “But I’d rather waste four years of your life than leave a marriage. I…um…I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“It’s my birthday.” I let out a bizarre, raspy chuckle. “You chose to do this on my birthday?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head adamantly. “I didn’t choose anything… I had every intention of proposing tonight. I really did. I just saw that ring on your finger and I couldn’t deny the truth anymore.” He holds up his hands, showing me his palms across the table. “I’m so sorry. I hate myself for this. I wish I could just change how I feel.”

Taking in a deep breath, I stare right at the shriveled-looking man across the table, who not five minutes ago looked like the man of my dreams.

“Please,” he says.

“Please what?” I hiss as the dull background noise of the restaurant resumes. The earth slowly but surely begins to rotate again as my racing heartbeat calms.

He clasps his hands together like he’s praying desperately. “Can we talk about this at home? We don’t have to do anything right away. We have a two-bedroom apartment. We can take some space…figure out the business. This can all be amicable.”

I glare at him. “You want this to be amicable?” My words are cool, but there’s fire in my eyes, and he’s about to burn.

“Or I can stay at a friend’s house for a while and give you your space until we figure out the next steps. However you want to handle this, Avery…I want to be supportive.”

“A friend’s house?” I laugh. “You condescending piece of shit.” Why do I have a sneaking suspicion I know exactly what friend he’d like to stay with. “You did cheat on me, didn’t you?”

He shakes his head. “No, I said I wanted to, but I would never. I respect you too much.”

“Seriously? That’s your grand gesture?” I widen my eyes. “Well, thank you for only wanting to cheat on me. Congratulations on your self-restraint.”

He looks left and right, clearly uncomfortable having this conversation in public, but my limbs still aren’t working and I’m glued to this chair, so I’ll have to wait out the shock here a bit longer.

I’ll admit, our sex life has been lackluster. I thought it was a mixture of the honeymoon phase ending, the stress of our business, and the aftermath of getting really comfortable with someone. I thought his lack of sex drive was odd, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t the drive that was the problem…it was apparently the vehicle.

“Whatever you need to say…say it. I deserve it.” He stupidly holds his hand out.

I’m not touching that.

“I’m sorry. And I’ll say it a thousand times again. I really wanted this to end up differently.”

Is he tearing up?

My head is spinning. He’s trying to be apologetic, but everything he says slices me in a new spot. He is implying I’m big, but it’s funny—at the moment, I’ve never felt smaller in my life. So small in fact, I could slip right through the wooden floorboards of this luxury steakhouse, never to be seen again.

I yank again on the ring on my finger. It still won’t budge, but at least my limbs seem operable again. “It’s fucking stuck,” I mumble.

“Keep it,” he says quickly.

“What?” I screw up my face.