Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“Bali!” Hugh misread the count, and his dry voice emerged a couple of seconds after the synchronized voices of the two women.

The brand-new Mrs. Clark gasped, and her hands flew to her cheeks in shock. George’s face lit up in surprise and pleasure. The bridal couple got up to envelope their three children in hugs and kisses. Vicki—smaller than the rest—disappeared in the happy huddle. George briefly separated from the group to drag Charity and Miles over to get in on the love fest.

The guests clapped and “awwed”, and a few of them furtively swiped at their eyes. It was sweet. Ty found himself a little—no, fuck it…honestly, a lot—envious of the tight-knit newly-blended family. How welcoming they were to each other, how eager to create a new whole. It was the beginning of something special. Holidays, family gatherings, birthdays, births, deaths…these would now be shared experiences. They would offer one another support, love, and understanding. Wherever and whenever it was needed.

They made it seem so easy. Perhaps it was easy. It was normal to want to be part of something. To feel included and loved. It was human nature.

It was terrifying, and it was brave.

The Hollingsworth-Clark-Cole family unit laughingly regrouped. After one final toast from Nina, dinner was served, and the party kicked off.

Ty drove them to the airport the following morning. Vicki should have known he would do something like this. This was probably his way of finishing his assignment.

It was just after ten. They’d had a big family breakfast, where Miles had almost shyly announced his engagement to a beaming, blushing Charity. It had been a lovely note on which to end their vacation. And Vicki had been feeling almost upbeat until she had discovered who their driver was.

Now they sat in awkward silence, while Hugh—still nursing a massive hangover—slept in the back seat next to Charity. She was aware of Ty’s glances at her in the rearview mirror, and—irritated—scooted forward to speak with him.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Ty,” she muttered into his ear.

“I want to know that we’re still friends.”

“We’re not. What the hell kind of friends would we be? We’ll never see each other again. You made that very clear from the beginning. Why not just call this what it is? The end. It’s over. There’s no point in pretending that we’re still friends. It would be a lie to make ourselves—to make you—feel better. We had some good times. But it was always going to end this way.”

His hands clenched on the steering wheel and a muscle in his jaw popped as he ground his teeth.

“It doesn’t have to be a lie. We could—”

“Come on, Ty,” Vicki snapped, exasperated. “You’re making this worse than it has to be. I’ll go back to my life, and you can stick to your original plan of not missing me. We have nothing left to say to each other.”

“You’re punishing me because of the way I reacted when you told me you love me.”

Oh. Wow. She couldn’t believe he had actually gone there!

“Oh, my God, this is literally the arrangement we made. How is it a punishment? Remember the deal? After the wedding your assignment is over. You’re moving on. That was it. End of story. You couldn’t have been any clearer on that point.”

Ty didn’t know why he was pushing the matter. Vicki was right. This was the agreement. They didn’t have to part as friends. She was accurate when she said they probably wouldn’t see each other after this. And if they did, what would that even entail? They’d get together for drinks and shoot the breeze? He didn’t think he was capable of a platonic relationship with her. It was best to make a clean break of it.

The thought of never seeing her again felt so wrong…but he had nothing to offer her aside from an empty friendship. Or continued—equally empty—sex.

Letting her go was the only option he had left.

He glanced at her in the mirror again. Something he had done countless times in the past. The realization that he wouldn’t be able to do so after today, gnawed painfully at his gut.

She had her arms folded over her chest—head averted—as she stared out at the scenery. She looked tense and defensive.

His throat closed and panic welled in his chest.

This was it. In less than an hour, she’d be gone. Winging her way home, putting physical and emotional distance between them.

Oh, God.

The panic clawed its way up to his throat—a living thing—fighting to crawl out of his mouth, and beg her to forgive him. To give him a chance to prove to her that he could…

Could what?

What the hell do you have to offer her, asshole? When you’re too fucking chickenshit to let anyone close to you?

He beat back the oily waves of dread and anxiety that coiled sinuously through his body and mind. The rot of his cowardice curdled on his tongue, tasting sour in his mouth.