“Good. They should.” Nathan paused. “What did they say when you turned them down?”
She should have started the conversation differently. She should have pointed to the art supplies littering his floor and asked what he was working on since the gala was only three weeks away. Or she should have kissed him. She should have peeled off her clothes and pretended that she wasn’t trying to imprint his memory on her skin.
“I haven’t answered him yet,” Rachel said, and omitted the rest. He wouldn’t care about how she’d filled her schedule with donor lunches and gala committee meetings to anesthetize his absence. He wouldn’t care that she’d failed completely.
Nathan’s irritation slipped briefly into confusion before darkening into anger. “Why the hell not?”
“It’s complicated.”
“He’s treating you like a—”
“Prostitute?”
His confirmation was a brief tightening around the eyes. “I wasn’t going to say that.”
She knew he couldn’t accept her motivations because he didn’t understand them. With his background, she doubted he ever would. “And it was my idea,” she continued, pushing harder, because neither of them deserved to get off that easily. “It must be nice to have the luxury of a moral high ground sitting on a pile of your grandmother’s money.”
Nathan’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t about me.”
“No, it isn’t.” Fury strained her voice. Rachel gouged her nails into her palm, using the pain to stay focused. “You’ve never been desperate. You’ve never had your entire life snatched away by things you couldn’t control. We’ve both made bad choices, but you’ve always had better options. I’d love to walk away, buy a building, and wipe my slate clean, but I can’t. I have to live with my mistakes. But Faith doesn’t. And I owe her this.”
“She wouldn’t want it this way!” Nathan spoke in a rush, one word tripping over the next.
“Yeah, well, she’s young,” Rachel said. He stiffened, and she knew he heard the implication. And so are you.
Nathan seemed lost for a moment, scanning her face, looking for a tether. “Let me help you,” he pleaded. “I’ll pay your rent, find a lawyer—whatever you need to walk away from Abbott, free and clear.” He was so sure. So confident that he’d figured out the obvious solution to her problems. But Rachel knew that look: another man playing a winning hand.
“No.”
“So you’ll take his money, but mine’s not good enough for you?”
“I thought you were a good listener.” She’d forgotten how loving someone could slowly convince you they were perfect. But like she told him when they met, people are flawed. “I earned every dime of that money. Thirteen years of propping that man up so far that it buried me. I’m not taking anything. I am owed a piece of the life that I built.”
“But you shouldn’t have to be miserable to get it! Pretending to be his wife, everyone judging you all the time. It’s not fair to you.” He finally reached for her, clasping her hands tight. “Let me help you. Please.”
Rachel closed her eyes. She was so close to saying yes. The desire was a flood strong enough to wash away the little willpower she had left. But she’d been here before. Seduced by the fairy tale. Now she knew the way it ended, with sour resentment, and all that gratitude twisting into contempt. “It’s one more campaign,” she said. “Once it’s over, I’ll be free to figure things out for myself.”
He dropped her hands. “What do you want from me, Rachel? Why did you come here?”
Because I love you, she thought. Because you said you were mine. “I came to tell you the truth, so we could figure out how t-to…” She gestured between them. “We can just—”
“Keep fucking behind Matt’s back?”
His voice was lifeless. She reached for his hand, but he jerked away. She panicked, her thoughts fracturing into excuses that were too embarrassing to admit out loud. Instead, she said the worst possible thing, at the worst possible time, which she regretted the moment it escaped her mouth. “It wouldn’t be behind his back.”
Nathan went still. Rachel grabbed his arm, this time ignoring the way he flinched, and blurted, “No, that’s not what I meant—”
“You should leave.” He gently pried her fingers from his wrist.
She started to cry, hard blinding tears. “Nathan, wait—”