Complicate (Deliver 9)

Her smile cried out for happiness.

There was no contentment in it. No tranquility. No delirium. Had she been without those things all along?

They’d been inseparable for months, staying here at his lakefront estate, reconnecting, dancing, fucking, focusing on their relationship, and planning their future. They were wrapped up together. On top of the world.

But no amount of planning or intimacy could erase the gaping hole in her heart.

The hole that had been left by another man.

He didn’t want to notice it. Didn’t want to think about it, talk about it, or do anything to make it real. So he’d ignored it. For seven months, he pretended there wasn’t something missing.

They were in love and finally back together, all the while pretending she didn’t still love Trace.

It was a point of contention that couldn’t be resolved with words or time. Ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away. He knew that. They both knew.

It wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t asked for this. He and Trace had wedged her into a miserable love triangle. Then they’d forced her into a decision.

Choose.

So she had.

Her decision ruined Trace, sentencing him to a life without her.

Her decision left a guilt-ridden hole in her heart.

Her decision yielded only one winner, and he couldn’t rejoice in that. But if he was strong enough, he could fix it.

She’d lost him once, and yeah, it had wrecked her. But she’d found happiness again. In his absence, she’d fallen in love again.

The same couldn’t be said this time around. She was surviving without Trace, but she wasn’t living.

This had everything to do with who she was, not who she chose. The woman he’d shared space with for the last seven months wasn’t the Danni he knew.

She’d lost her luster, her vivacity, her effervescent rhythm. His carefree dancer was miserable.

Because love wasn’t a choice.

He dangled his arms over his bent knees and leaned his head back against the wall, watching her, memorizing her delicate features, while slowly, painfully, preparing for a decision that would decimate him on a fundamental level.

“I thought you retired.” She glanced at the tables of charging phones and running laptops. “What is this?”

“I am retired. I only come in here to check my messages.” He gave the devices a thoughtful look. “I get a lot of job offers.”

“Job offers?” She closed the distance and lowered to the floor beside him, mirroring his pose. “What kind of jobs?”

“The kind that paid for this house. The dangerous kind that send me out of the country for months. Sometimes years.”

He missed the work, the challenge in it. The danger. But he gave it all up for her and would gladly continue to do so…if she was happy.

She tensed. “Are you considering—?”

“I would never consider a job away from you.” He gathered her beneath his arm and breathed in the unique Nag Champa scent of her hair.

Curling up against his side, she rested her head on his shoulder and hummed. Her fingers stroked his arm. Her silence tried to invoke comfort. All of it felt forced, but not. Tense, but also tender. She was straining for the happiness they’d once shared. And failing to grab hold of it.

Let It Go played again, strumming the air with the glaring truth. The lyrics bemoaned a relationship that was destined to end, no matter how badly two people held on. He’d selected it without thinking, his subconscious sending him a message.

“This song is so sad.” She ran a finger along the line of his rigid jaw, unable to coax him to relax. “Why are you listening to it?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he murmured, his insides sick with unease.

She dropped her hand.

“You’re trying so hard to make this work.” His voice cracked. “But the heart wants what the heart wants.”

She flinched. “No—”

“He’s not physically here, but he’s here nonetheless, always between us.” He met her eyes with a hard stare. “You’re settling.”

“Damn right, I’m settling.” She fisted her hands. “I’m settling into a beautiful life with a man who takes my breath away. I chose you, Cole. I’m with you.”

“Someone told me once that love isn’t a choice.”

Christ, this hurt. Unlike the bullet that had struck his chest, Danni would leave a lasting, open wound.

“Why do you think I wanted you to wait six months?” He touched her trembling fingers, caressing her engagement band. “I didn’t want you to choose. I wanted it to happen. I wanted it to rise inside you and become the beat of your heart.” He softened his voice, dying inside. “The most decisive actions are the ones with the least consideration.”

“What are you saying?”

“The day you forced yourself to decide, I knew. When Trace walked out that door, I saw it in your eyes.” He forced resolve into his expression. “You voiced a decision your heart wasn’t ready to make.”

Her face turned to stone. But beneath the anger, he glimpsed concession. She knew he was right.