Before Him

“Sure. Right.” He pulls away from the door and gives a jerky shrug. “How about being sorry for behaving like a child?”

“I don’t—”

“For pretending you’re not home when I knock on the door.”

“There’s nothing else to be said.” I swallow over the lump in my throat that I’m pretty sure is my heart trying to escape. Such vehemence. This is a side to Roman I haven’t seen. He deserves better. Better than me.

“So why are you here? If there’s nothing to be said, why are you on my doorstep?”

Technically, it’s my doorstep, but I don’t feel it would be very nice to point that out to him, especially as it won’t be for much longer. “I came to, um . . .”

“What?” Folding his arms, he glares down at me. “To tell me the truth? I might behave like an arse, but trust me, babe, I’m no idiot.”

“I never said you were,” I retort angrily.

“No, you just expect me to believe you’re done with me because you think I want a career in the movies, despite making it clear what I want is you and Wilder.”

“That’s not what I said—not the only thing I said. You lied to me. To us both.”

“I withheld the truth for a little while.” His shoulder jolts as though displacing an annoying fly. “I kept my financial status from you because I didn’t want to give you cause to worry. So yeah, I’ll hold my hands up to that.”

When he frames it that way, it sounds so plausible. And why wouldn’t it? He’s speaking the truth. I’m the one full of shit. But I can’t admit that I love him because then I’d risk the world as I know it to come tumbling down.

I grit my teeth and force away the prickling onset of tears. Jesus, talk about bad timing. Of course I love him because only love would hurt like this. Only love would drive me to visit Drew tomorrow morning.

“Roman, you manipulated me—”

“So you tell yourself.”

“You were going to leave us anyway,” I say, throwing my arm out behind me. “Morocco awaits, remember?”

“You believe that because it makes it easier for you.”

“I don’t understand how your brain disseminates information, but that’s not what happened here. You lied—”

“Same as you. But what I can’t work out is if it’s just to me, or if you’re lying to yourself, too.” Not anymore, I’m not. I love you, but I don’t deserve you. “

“You’re infuriating. Here!” I pull the folded printouts from my back pocket. “This is how much of an idiot you are. I want a divorce!”

“Well, tough tits, because I’m not giving you one.”

My blood begins to boil. Why does he have to make this so difficult? “Tough tits to you because I don’t need your permission,” I yell. “For your information, Oregon is a no-fault divorce state. I just need to file the petition with the clerk’s office and have my lawyer serve you.” Which is going to cost. But thanks to Drew, I’m just about to get my hands on some money.

Roman unfurls the printout, his eyes not leaving me. “So what’s this, then?”

“That’s me being nice. I figured I’d save you paying for advice.”

“You’re all heart.” His tone and his expression make no secret of his disgust as he throws the printouts somewhere behind him into the pixie house. “Was that it, or do you have any more favours you want to do me?” His eyes flick over me with such a strange mixture of desire and contempt that I have to drop my gaze. My stomach is in knots and not the pleasurable kind, but my God, I think I’d let him fuck his contempt into me if he so much as lifted his hand.

“Letting Wilder go with Annie without saying was a dick move, Kennedy.”

I glance up at his softer tone. “I know it was, and I’m sorry.” The fire seems to have drained from my words, too. “But this will give us both time to process things before we explain it to him.”

“Process? How’s that working out for you?” He folds his arms across his chest, reminding me of his lack of clothing. “Because I feel as though my thoughts are fully fucking processed. A bit like chicken nuggets.”

“I don’t know what that means.” This was a mistake. An exercise in futility.

“It means my feelings are overprocessed, and my thoughts are all minced ball sacks and arseholes. Is that clear enough for you?”

“A little graphic, but yes. I get it.” I take a deep breath in preparation for my next point. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, this whole encounter sucks. “I want you to know I’ll be serving you notice to vacate.”

“What?” His expression closes.

“You need to move out. Move into town or something.”

“I’m paid up for months.” Roman glances down at his feet as he widens his stance. A spark of defiance ignites in those dark blue eyes as he looks at me once again. “So no thanks.”