Holiday In the Hamptons (From Manhattan with Love 5)

“But—”

“The truth is I never got over you. I tried. Believe me, I tried. Over the years there have been women, I’m not denying that, but none of them has gone anywhere, and do you know why? Because none of them were you. I didn’t marry you because you were pregnant, Fliss. I married you because I loved you.” He tightened his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “I loved you.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FLISS STARED AT HIM, mute. He’d loved her?

No, that wasn’t possible.

She remembered something he’d said that night she’d gone to his house for the first time.

Maybe I didn’t want to let you go and the baby provided a convenient excuse.

“That’s not true. It can’t be true.”

“I told you. I said those words to you.” There was a note of frustration in his voice. “You know I did.”

“You said them when you knew I was pregnant. Not before.”

He cursed under his breath. “Then that was bad timing on my part, but it didn’t make the words any less than the truth.”

“But can you understand how it might have seemed to me? I tell you I’m pregnant, and you tell me you love me and that we should get married?”

He was silent. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I can see that.”

“I thought you were saying it to make me feel better about the fact I’d trapped you.”

His mouth tightened. “I don’t think communication was the best feature of our relationship, but we’re going to change that.”

She felt her throat thicken and her eyes sting.

He’d loved her? He’d truly meant those words?

Oh God, if that was true then she’d thrown that away. She’d held the very thing she wanted in her hand, and she’d crushed it without ever knowing it could have been hers.

She sniffed and gave him a little push. “Your timing sucked, Dr. Carlyle.”

“It did. It definitely did. But my timing has improved with maturity.”

“It’s too late. Whatever the truth was back then, it’s history. I’m not good at relationships, Seth. All that opening up and trusting—that’s not me. I want to, but I can’t.”

“You can. All you have to do is trust me. And this time I’m going to prove to you that you can. I’m going to prove I’m not your father. I didn’t spend enough time dealing with those issues. I didn’t understand how deeply everything he said had affected you. I judged your actions based on my own experiences of family, not on yours.”

She felt the warmth of his hand stroke her back. “You make it sound so easy, but it isn’t.” Her voice was muffled by his shirt. “I’m not good at laying feelings out there.”

“Because you’re afraid someone is going to tread all over them in heavy boots.” He smoothed her hair. “I get that. And we’ll work with it.”

“How?”

He eased her away from him. “Same way you get better at anything. Practice.”

“You want me to practice telling you things about myself? I’m five-four, have a black belt in karate and bench-press one-twenty.”

“Those are facts. I want feelings. Tell me how you’re feeling right now.”

“A little bit sick? A whole lot terrified?”

“Because you’re afraid you’re going to end up hurting the way you did last time, but that’s not going to happen.”