I feel sick. “Who told you?” I whisper.
He looks incredulous. “That’s it, that’s what you have to say to me? Who told me?”
“No, I’m . . .” My head is spinning and I’m having trouble forming cohesive thoughts. I’m in the eye of the storm, an emotional tornado that’s plucked me off the ground and spit me high into the air. “No, that’s not all I have to say.” My phone is going crazy in my purse, but I ignore it.
His eyes flash with temper. “So you’re not going to bother denying it, then? No more lies?”
I take a deep breath. “No, I’m not going to deny it. You deserve the truth.” Just saying the words out loud makes me want to weep with relief. Despite the intensity of the situation, to finally be honest with him feels like a two-thousand-pound weight’s been lifted off my shoulders.
“Now I deserve the truth.” He laughs bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest. “So tell me, Cassie, because I’m not exactly clear. What was your big plan here? To embarrass me? Ruin my business? Or just to rip my heart out?”
Tears well in my eyes as my own heart cracks right down the middle. I can’t stand to see the hurt in his eyes, especially knowing I’m the one who put it there. It’s the inevitable outcome I feared all along.
“Jack, no. No.” He shakes his head in disgust and starts to walk away but I grab his arm before he can, dragging him into a nearby alcove and away from prying eyes. “You want the truth? Here it is, okay? I did go out with you intending to embarrass you. I thought if I acted a certain way, I could catch you . . . I don’t know, being a jerk, or behaving badly, and then use it for a story. I gave myself three dates to come up with something incriminating I could use against you and Brawler.”
He’s still shaking his head, face turned away like he can’t bear to look at me. Which is just as well, I suppose; it helps that I don’t have to look him in the eye as I confess my sins.
“It’s not an excuse, but I’d just been hurt and I thought you deserved it. It was stupid and ridiculous, I see that now, but I wanted to get back at you for all the times Brawler’s gone after Siren, for all the obnoxious ‘Sacred Saturdays’ crap we’re always dealing with. I even convinced myself it was noble, that by taking you down I’d be righting a wrong for women everywhere. I thought I’d write my story, shame Brawler and all the men who read it, then go on my merry way.” I swipe at the tears that are gathering more quickly now. I shudder to think of what my face must look like, watery tracks running through my meticulously applied makeup. “But that was before I knew you. And somewhere along the way I—”
“Grew a conscience?” he sneers.
“No. I mean, yes, but . . .” I let out a ragged breath. “Jack, somewhere along the way I realized that my feelings for you weren’t fake. I wanted to be with you as the real me, not the silly caricature I came up with. But I knew if I told you the truth, you’d never speak to me again. So I convinced myself that it didn’t matter how we’d met, that I could just kill the story and pretend the whole thing never happened.” I dash away another tear that’s broken loose. I’ll be able to raft down this river of tears soon. “I know it was wrong. I know that. I just . . . I didn’t know what else to do.” Despair is mounting in my chest. “I couldn’t let you hate me.”
He stays stoic, his expression giving nothing away. I want so badly to touch him, to grab the hand flexing at his side, but it feels selfish. I’d be doing it to comfort myself as much as him, and that’s not fair to him.
He’ll barely look at me. “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. I told you things I never tell anyone, and you just lied to my face over and over again. You’ve lied about everything since the day we met!”
“That’s not true. I lied about stupid things, like needing chaperones for our dates and knowing how to roast a chicken. Not the things that matter.” My phone starts ringing again and I curse, pulling it out and glancing at the display—Nat, unsurprisingly—before shutting it off completely and tossing it back in my purse.
“Why should I believe a word you say?” There’s pain in his voice now, defeat, which somehow feels worse than his anger. Like I’m losing him.
Desperation seizes me. “Because it’s the truth! Jack, the second I knew I had feelings for you, real feelings, I called the whole thing off. I told Cynthia I refused to go through with it. I told her she could fire me.”
He continues to shake his head, saying nothing, and I throw my arm toward the ballroom.
“You don’t believe me? Go in there and ask her! Go find Cynthia and ask her when I walked away from the story. It was weeks ago, Jack. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you only lied half the time?” He drags a hand through his hair and strides a few paces away before turning back again. “Jesus, Cassie, were you ever going to tell me the truth?”
“I don’t know,” I say miserably, hating this. Hating myself. “Would you have forgiven me?”
He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t have to. We both know the answer.
“Jack, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you and betraying your trust, and for giving you reason to doubt that what I’m telling you now is anything but the truth. You have every right to be angry with me. But don’t you remember what you said to me before, about Brett and the whole Saturdays thing? You said, ‘How can I be sorry for it when it brought us together?’ Well, I feel the same way. I’m sorry but I’m also not sorry, because without this stupid story I never would have seen you again after the night we met in that bar. I would’ve cursed your name and walked out of there and never looked back. I would never have gotten to know you. I would never have learned what an amazing man you are. I would never . . .”
I hesitate, my voice faltering, and I nearly lose my nerve, but I’m determined to get this out. I owe him at least that much.
I swallow and meet his gaze, clear-eyed. “I would never have fallen in love with you.”
Chapter 16
I watch him absorb my declaration, a medley of emotions reflected in his eyes: surprise, relief, wonder, then hesitation. Or maybe it’s doubt. Maybe he doesn’t believe me.
This time, I do reach out and touch him. I step forward and take his hand, lacing my fingers through his. I need to lay it all out there for him.
“I tried so hard not to love you, but you swept me off my feet anyway, with your silly board games and your cheesy pickup lines and your chivalry. With your patience and your generosity and your good heart.” I smile at him, feeling my soul rattling around in my chest. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating to make myself this vulnerable. “It’s kind of funny when you think about it, isn’t it? I gave myself three dates to bring you down, but I’m the one who fell.” I laugh wryly. “Pretty damn inconvenient of you to be the man I’ve been searching for my whole life.”
His eyes flare, and I raise our joined hands and place his palm on my chest, letting him feel my racing heartbeat. “I’ve been just as scared of loving you as I’ve been of losing you, but I realize now that I’ve never been in control of either one. I can stand here and tell you I love you and you could still walk away, and I’d have to accept that.” I curl my fingers around his and squeeze. “But I hope I won’t have to.”