More rustling, then something that sounds a lot like a male snarl. “Hey, asshole. Piss off until I say otherwise, okay? Love you, bro.”
Three beeps fill my ear, then silence.
I shake my head. I can’t not smile at Maxon’s craziness…but this mystery is bugging the hell out of me. If Britta doesn’t know about our wedding next weekend, what is she doing looking at honeymoon packages at a swanky hotel online?
With a sharp glance back toward the bathroom, I see the steam still rising. I hear the water still running.
Yeah, I’m a rat bastard when it comes to my woman. Sue me.
But I’m going to get to the bottom of this now.
Stalking back to Britta’s computer, I pry the lid open more and sink into the chair as I read her screen.
She confirmed her reservation for the honeymoon suite at the Four Seasons next Saturday night. Why? I frown. She doesn’t know she’s marrying me next weekend. Keeley just confirmed that. How does she know she needs a honeymoon suite for the night of the fifteenth?
Unless she’s still planning to marry Makaio that day, like she has been for months.
Maybe the time has come to think with my head. I need someone I can depend on. I need a family sedan, Griff. You’re a Ferrari.
The bottom falls out of my gut. No. Fuck no. She’s not serious. She can’t be. She spent all night with me. Together with me in every way. She finally told me she loves me.
Maybe, dumb ass, that was her way of saying good-bye.
My head is buzzing with shock, but I can feel anger stretching, growing, rising like the pressure of a volcano about to spew lava. No, there must be some explanation. She wouldn’t do this to me. Britta isn’t the sort of woman to lead someone on. She’s done with Makaio. She said so…
He doesn’t belong between us anymore. That’s all she murmured when I asked if she was marrying the moron.
I blink at the computer screen, stare, trying to wrap my brain around the obvious. She didn’t actually say she was done with him. She certainly didn’t confirm that she wasn’t marrying him.
So what she really said was that Makaio doesn’t belong between us anymore because she’s going to surf off into the sunset with the Hawaiian banker and leave me for good.
The water from the shower cuts off. The door opens. “Griff? I forgot to grab my towel. Can you help me?”
I stand rooted in disbelief. How did the best night of my life become the worst morning ever? I get this slippery sense of déjà vu. I’ve been here, Britta squeaky clean and dripping as I realize the enormity of her betrayal. But last time I was dead wrong. I was a flaming idiot who jumped to all kinds of conclusions.
I roll through my logic again, but it all snaps together like snug pieces of a perfectly obvious puzzle.
She never had any intention of not marrying Makaio. Oh, she took off his ring to humor me. But she refused to wear mine. She lived with me because I didn’t give her a choice. I convinced myself she had one. I assured myself there was no way she would choose that dipshit over me. And why? Because I didn’t want to believe it. Just like I didn’t want to believe she could string me along.
I never wanted to believe Julia could, either. Look where that got me.
Is this resentment? Is this her payback? Or did she just never really give a shit?
Goddamn it, I won’t be Britta’s fool.
I stomp into the bathroom and grab a towel off the counter. I toss it at her with a snarl and try not to notice how naked she is. “How fucking dare you?”
She doesn’t act at all surprised as she wraps the terrycloth around her. “You saw my computer?”
“You’re damn right I did. When were you going to tell me?” I get up in her face and scowl. “Friday night while you were packing your bags to run off and marry another man? Or did you plan to fuck me one more time, cheat on him like you did last night, then get up Saturday morning and speak your forever vows to him?”
She doesn’t say anything, just stares, lips pressed together like she can’t speak.
“Well?” I prod. “Did you enjoy it? Did you laugh? Yeah, I’ll bet you did. I made an ass out of myself. I turned both our lives upside down to be with you. I tried to open up and be romantic—all the things Keeley said you needed from me. I fucking told you things I’ve never told anyone.”
I still can’t believe it. She’s stabbing me in the heart—for real this time—and it doesn’t make any sense.
Please explain it away. Please tell me I’m wrong. Please…
“That’s what you think?” Tears well in her eyes, then fall down her freshly scrubbed face in silvery tracks.
She looks so young. Hell, so innocent. What is happening here? “What the fuck else do you want me to think? Britta…if I’m wrong, tell me I’m wrong.”
“No.”
Shouldering her way past me, she makes for the bedroom and shimmies into panties and a bra. I watch, dumbfounded. “That’s all you have to say? No, what? No, I’m wrong? Or no, you’re not going to tell me anything?”
Silence.
“Goddamn it, I’ve been fighting for us. I’ve done everything I know to make you love me again. To make you believe in us again. And this is what you do?”
She opens the closet. Her back is facing me, but I see her shaking. I hear the sobs. She’s heartbroken, but I don’t understand. I haven’t ripped us apart. She has. She wanted me to see her computer, planned it that way. Why the hell should she suddenly be verklempt?
After pulling down the first two garments in front of her, she tosses on a pair of capri pants and a T-shirt, then storms past me again, towel in hand, and heads to the bathroom. Tears stream in earnest down her face.
She’s behaving as if I’ve somehow wronged her. I don’t understand. She never intended to stay with me. She led me on. She basically admitted it. What can I possibly be missing?
I grab her arm. “Talk to me.”
“I think you’ve said enough for both of us.” Britta wrenches free from my grip, then makes her way to the bathroom woodenly, on autopilot. She shoves her hair in a wet ponytail, then grabs her suitcase from the linen closet.
My jaw drops. “You’re leaving?”
“Give me one reason not to.” She blinks at me, waiting, looking so desolate.
I’m confused as shit. Does she want me to slice my heart open and bleed for her one more time before she marries someone else?
To hell with that.
I toss my hands in the air. “I think I’m all out of them, angel. I’ve done everything I know to win you back, and apparently you’d already made up your mind. But hey, at least we had a night of great sex before you decided to fuck off.”
“So that’s what you think? And you’re done?”
What the hell? I look at her as if she suddenly spoke Greek. That’s how much I comprehend her question. “What else do you want? I can’t do it all for both of us. I sure as hell can’t keep twisting your arm to be with me. I can’t keep telling you I love you when you don’t care in return. I can’t—”
Suddenly, I choke. Emotion is closing my throat. My eyes sting. I can’t speak. I will not cry in front of this woman. I refuse to cry for her again.
“Am I a backstabbing bitch?” she challenges, eyes narrowed.
That’s what I called her three years ago before I walked out. She’s baiting me. Why? Something inside tells me not to take it, but my temper grabs my tongue. I’m so angry. I feel so fucking betrayed. How could she do this? How did I not see it? Just…how did we wind up here, again a week short of being together forever?
“Yes. Goddamn you!”