From Ex to Eternity (Newlywed Games 1)

One glance at his phone was enough—twenty text messages and an ungodly number of emails. Pointedly, he switched it off. What could ten more minutes of being incommunicado hurt?

She swallowed a hefty third of her wine as if intending to set the record for fastest drink between lovers.

Or she was trying to dull her senses to make it easier to spend time with him?

“I don’t know how to do this,” she blurted out before he’d even gotten comfortably settled next to her on the love seat.

He contemplated whether he should pretend to misunderstand or deflect with a joke. The climate felt precarious, as if he’d frighten her away if he messed up and said the wrong thing. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not sure either.”

Nothing about this rekindled affair felt the same as it had the first time. Or as he’d expected it to be the second time. He’d spent his adulthood fending off money-grubbing women who cared only about the lavish lifestyle he could provide them, and somewhere along the way forgot that some people actually got something out of relationships. Companionship, maybe.

“Why does it have to be so hard?” Her fingers gripped the stem of her wineglass in what looked like a fair attempt to break it in half. “I can’t find the middle ground. This is supposed to be an unemotional pleasure romp, right?”

Something rasped in her voice, a hint of sentiment that pinged inside him strangely. “You mean it’s not?”

Say no. Please say something that can help me make sense of all this.

She met his gaze unflinchingly, and he couldn’t break eye contact. Didn’t want to. God, why was she so heartbreakingly beautiful in his shirt and with her damp hair?

“No,” she whispered. “I’m afraid I’m not one of those girls who can love ’em and leave ’em.”

“Well, that’s easily fixed.” He laughed, a little awed at how tender it came out. He wouldn’t call tender a particular skill of his. “Don’t leave.”

Now, how hard was that? He should have opened with it.

“Actually, I was thinking about axing the ‘love’ part.”

Keith went cold and then hot. No, that was definitely ice sliding down his spine. That was why he hadn’t bared his soul from the outset. None of this had a handy spreadsheet for reference or a concrete result set.

“Now, that would be a downright shame. Reconsider.”

When he picked up her hand and held it between his, she didn’t pull away this time, and he greedily latched on to the small sign that he hadn’t irrevocably messed up yet.

“What would you have me do, Keith?” she implored him. “I’m trying to stick to the rules, but it turns out I can’t sleep with you and then forget about you the rest of the day.”

She thought about him? That pleased him enormously. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

Misery tugged her mouth downward, and that hurt in a whole different way.

“I got some news today. Really good news. I wanted to share it with you.”

The long pause stretched.

“But you didn’t,” he prompted and started to get an inkling of what was troubling her. “Is that what this is all about? You’re afraid I’ll feel like you’re pressuring me if you tell me personal things?”

In the course of fending off women he felt nothing for other than a mild sense of affection, he’d also forgotten that relationships were about giving another person something, too. A warm shoulder. Support. Encouragement.

If he could do that with anyone, it would be with this new Cara who no longer wanted to be Mrs. Someone. The aspiring trophy wife of two years ago had completely vanished.

The thought of being there for her beyond the expo wasn’t as scary as he might have supposed. Still no pressure or wedding bells. But something. They could define it as they went along.

“It wasn’t even personal news. It was about my design business.”

This was like pulling teeth without anesthesia, and he’d lost track of whom it was hurting the most.

“Cara, look at me.” When she complied, eyes swimming with unshed tears, it was more like a full-on evisceration than a simple tooth extraction. “I want you to talk to me. I’m the one who asked you to stay. I’m the one who wants—”

“You’re not listening to me!” And then she did yank her hand from his, tears running angrily down her face. “I’m the one feeling pressured. I don’t want to stay. Me. I don’t know how to do this because it’s confusing. Sex and intimacy and emotions are all tied together, and what we’re doing makes me think I want a relationship. I start to believe in the possibilities. And then I remember.”