As that kernel of truth hits me, the air in the room thins as my anxiety turns to full-blown fear.
My hands tremble, and I tuck them behind my head, hoping she doesn’t notice. Reaching for control, I suck in deep breaths, wrestling with my head as I battle an undeniable tug toward her combined with this awful, sinking dread . . .
I mean, let’s be honest. I’m no good for Nova. I’m no good for anyone.
Point blank: I’m not what a girl like her deserves.
I can’t be relied on. I can’t protect people. I’m leaving!
She’s trying to start a new life, and here I am, screwing it up. I’m going to hurt her. I am!
I swallow and find my voice. It sounds normal. Thank God. “I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, the pill isn’t one hundred percent effective . . .”
Our gazes cling, and she’s quiet, scanning my face. Okay, maybe my voice shook a little.
I drop my eyes. She’s an intuitive person. She knows.
“You should have said something before,” she says in a tight voice.
“There wasn’t time, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Really.” Her eyes narrow.
I scrub my face. “Will you let me know when you start your period?”
She eases up. “Huh. I see. Okay, well, it’s due soon. I’ll be sure to keep you updated on my menstrual flow.”
I try to take her hand, but she evades me. “Hey,” I say. “Don’t be upset.”
“Don’t tell me how to feel.”
I sigh. “I’m not prepared to be a father, Nova. I don’t want a surprise baby or entanglements—”
“I told you I’m on the pill, so chill. You won’t have any entanglements from me.” She stands and jerks up her thong and shorts, sliding them on. Then her bra and shirt.
“Nova—” I sit up.
She holds her hand up. “No. We finish some spectacular sex, and you immediately . . . ugh. You really suck at pillow talk.”
“It’s a valid topic. We shouldn’t have—”
“Regrets already, Ronan. How predictable.” Her lips twist.
I groan. “I said I was sorry for New York, Nova. It’s bothered me for years, wondering who you were and if I hurt you. I know I did, and I hate it, okay, hate it. I’m not that kind of guy. I was with you that night. Totally. What we did, it was all us. Did I regret it? Initially, yes. It came at a weird time, and I felt guilty, but in the end—”
“Stop talking.” She tosses my shirt at me, and I catch it before it hits my face.
I pull it on, then put my hands on my hips. “Okay. You talk.”
Her jaw clenches. “I don’t like that you’re pulling away mentally five minutes after we’ve had sex. We both know exactly what this was. A get-it-out-of-the-way fuck. Hey, there’s one to add to my list. No need to repeat it, especially since you regret it.”
Shit. “I never said I regretted this.”
“You didn’t have to!” She heads to the door, her eyes shiny.
There’s a burning sensation in my chest. “Nova . . . wait . . .” I open my mouth to try and explain my anxiety, but nothing comes out.
She pauses and looks over her shoulder at me, her hair messy and tangled, her lips bruised. “You want to know my real secret, Ronan?”
My heart stutters at the emotion in her eyes. “Yes.”
She breaks my gaze, her eyes darting around the pantry as if looking for answers. She comes back to me, a resigned expression on her face. Her hands clench. “My secret is . . . that night at the Mercer Hotel . . . by the time we got to your room . . . I was already half in love with you. The way you danced with me, the way you kissed me in the elevator—boy, that was the clincher . . . and now you’re here in my hometown, and we’re spending time together.”
Then she whips out the pantry door, and I lean back against the wall, winded by her words.
Half in love with me . . .
You fucking know what it means, Ronan. Feelings.
Adrenaline spikes as my heart races, nearly exploding. Fear rushes, that sensation of things moving too quickly for me to process. Somehow, I follow her out of the pantry, and she’s at my front door.
I watch her, hating myself. My head flashes with images of what could be with her, and part of me yearns for that, wants to run to her, but my limbs won’t move, frozen in the foyer. I feel dizzy, my head spinning.
Stop her, stop her.
If I do, I’ll slip toward something dangerous, toward an ocean I can’t swim in. I’ve drowned before. I loved and lost. I ruined it. And that pain is excruciating.