Owen could see the shadows entering her eyes and steeled himself not to give in. His heart was breaking—just as he’d found he had one. But he could not do it. He could see the question in her face and he refused to answer it. He was not going to give her the out. He was not going to hold onto her only to have her resent him for it in—what?—six months or a year’s time. He was not going to ruin it for her.
She had to go. And she had to go utterly free of him. So he talked it up, went on about how exciting it was, how wonderful. She was finally going to realise her dreams. And not once did he mention how it was tearing him apart inside. Not once did he mention how much he wanted her to stay—to choose him. He gave her no choice. Because he knew that right now, inside, she cared for him. But she deserved to have her chance. For a moment there he’d thought they could have it all, but fate had decided it for both of them. The champagne tasted bitter. He’d put it in the fridge to celebrate something else entirely. He’d been going to cast off the coward label and embrace the risk—of emotion and responsibility—just as she’d challenged. Only now he was forced into a far more brave action—letting her go. The irony of it all really sucked.
Bella didn’t take time off work. Nor did Owen. In some ways it was a relief. She worked the last two days at the café totally on auto. They had pizza one night, Thai the next. Before she knew it, it was the last night. She was flying. He’d insisted. Reckoned he’d got a cheap deal on the Internet. She’d let him. It beat the ferry and bus option. She was always sick on the ferry.
They’d talked and teased and joked their way through sex. And it had always been wonderful and fun. But this was no joke. She was making love to him for the last time and then she was leaving.
There was nothing she could say. There was no way of changing it—there was no time.
And so for the first time she caressed him in complete silence. Kissing and kissing and kissing so there was no chance to voice the secrets lodged in her heart. That she’d fallen in love with him. Wanted to be with him. Wanted to stay.
As he moved down her body she couldn’t stop thinking. Couldn’t quite give herself over to the lust. Couldn’t enjoy it the way she really wanted to. He couldn’t and wouldn’t give her what she wanted. And what she wanted was taking her away. Acting was what she wanted most, right?
This was their last time—she had to make the most of it. But all she could think was that it was the last time. And that was ruining everything. She wanted to stop. She didn’t want there to be a last time.
He must have known because he stopped nuzzling her breasts. Instead he lifted his head and looked in her eyes, framed her face with his hands—so gently. And then he kissed her. He kissed and kissed until she could no longer think. Until there was no room in her head for doubt or pain. Only touch.
And then, when her mind was gone and she was all sensation, he stroked the rest of her, leaning close so he could follow the path of his fingers with his eyes. He stroked and kissed and gently blew on her hot skin. Moving with such powerful gentleness it was almost her undoing. But he too was silent.
She closed her eyes against the message she so badly wanted to read in his and just let him play with her until the need for the ultimate satisfaction grew too strong for both of them.
When he entered her this time she held her breath, tightening around him, closing him into her embrace with her arms and legs and everything. In her head words had returned and she was chanting: not going to let you go, not going to let you go.
But she was the one going. And she didn’t know if she really had the strength to follow through on it.
But later, as she dressed, alone in his bedroom, she knew she had to leave. It was to protect herself. She owed herself the chance of meeting her dreams. And she couldn’t stay with a man who didn’t want long term—not when she did. Marriage and babies were on her wish-list and she couldn’t change that—just as she couldn’t change him.
She tried to make the goodbye as quick as she could. It didn’t dim the pain at all. She wouldn’t look him in the face—couldn’t. He wanted to take her to the airport, was insistent. It tore her up inside as he objected.
Finally she looked at him, unable to hide the ache. ‘Please, Owen. Let me do this myself.’
He stopped then, a shadow passing over his face. ‘You don’t have to do everything yourself, Bella. It’s OK to have help from people when you need it. Remember that, won’t you?’
Yes, it was OK, but not all the time. And she had to do this alone; it was the only way she could.
The taxi was there in minutes and she turned to him feeling as if she had sawdust in her eyes and sandpaper in her throat. He lifted her bag into the boot.
‘I’ll call you,’ he said.
‘Actually—’ she cleared her throat ‘—I’d rather you didn’t.’
He stared at her.
She didn’t want to be half hoping—wholly hoping—for the next however many months or years it was going to take to get over him. She needed it to end now. It was the perfect opportunity. Clean, final. Just how he’d like it. She didn’t want him to pretend to offer anything else.
‘You don’t want me to contact you at all?’
She forced her head to move, slowly, side to side.
He stared at her for a long moment, ignoring the driver waiting patiently in the car.
‘OK,’ he said quietly. ‘If that’s what you want.’
She nodded then and looked down, not wanting to misread anything more in his face. Wanting to kill all her hope now. She didn’t trust her voice at all.
There was a moment of silence. She knew she should move—the driver was waiting, the meter was ticking already. But all that moved were her lashes as she lifted her eyes, unable to resist one last long look at him. His eyes were still a brilliant blue, but charged with a variety of emotions—confusion? Regret?
She couldn’t take any more and turned, got the door open. But as she did his hand was on her upper arm and it wasn’t gentle as he grasped and swung her back to face him. The door slammed shut again, she had only a fraction of a second to see the blue ablaze and then he was so close and she shut her eyes. The kiss wasn’t gentle either. It was hard and demanding and hurt.