The jackass keeps grinning, enjoying how he has me pinned.
“I’m ten seconds from kicking your ass. You’ll deserve it, too.”
“Yeah, the only problem is you won’t kick anything because I deserve it. It’ll be because you’re pissed I had the balls to tell you that girl has you wrapped around her finger—and you like it.”
“Does not,” I mash out between pinched teeth.
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be cool if I took her out after the ninety days, huh?”
“You’re taking this shit too far.”
“Get it over with. Wife her. Tell her the ring means business. A serious wedding might fix our problems,” he says, stroking his chin.
“Whatever. So that’s what this is about. If I marry her, you don’t have to feel bad that you let Mom in your office. Man up and deal with it, because I told you, I’m not the marrying type—and if I were going to marry someone it wouldn’t be Paige Holly in a million years.”
I mean it, too.
There’s no way I’d ever let my parents destroy such a warm-hearted angel.
“Ward!” Nick raises his eyebrows.
“I told you, there’s no room in my life for love. I’m better off sticking to greasing the machine that keeps us employed. Why would I give that up for fucking nuptials? Paige is better off without me.”
Nick looks past me, a pained look on his face.
“Ward—”
“Besides, I’d have to love her first, you know.” I pause, glowering, hoping my face doesn’t give up a single flash of what I feel—what I’m terrified to admit. “I don’t even think I’m capable of love,” I add.
“Damn it, Ward. Shut up,” he snarls, leaning forward.
“No, we’ve got to get this done and end this game with our parents before it’s too late. This fake out has gone on long enough. I can’t marry her and it’s not fair to her to keep drawing it out. She’s getting obsessed. She even cooks for me now, and it’s decent grub.”
“Ward. Brother. Would you shut your fucking mouth?” Nick growls, waving his arms.
I cock my head.
“You’re the idiot who brought it up. If you’re pissed at getting an earful, I—”
Thud.
Crash.
Slowly, I turn to face the noise.
Paige crouches just outside the entrance of the patio, picking up pieces of a broken mug.
“I’m the only idiot here,” she hisses, her voice is so quiet I barely hear it.
“I’ve got it.” Nick slips past me and bends down beside her, gathering up the mess.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “You seemed upset. I thought some tea might calm you guys down.”
Nick’s voice is gentle, tense. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.”
She nods, her shoulders dropping, wiping at her eyes.
“Paige,” I say.
She stands and stares at me. Tears stream down her face. She’s pallid, bone-white, hugging herself like she’s been sliced open and has to struggle just to hold herself together.
And I’m the goddamned butcher holding the knife.
If I’d heard her say what I just did—fuck. I can’t even think about it.
My gut dives and crashes so hard it almost doubles me over.
Par for the course when I’ve just dashed my whole life against the rocks.
“Paige—” I step toward the entrance, trying to find the words, begging my brain to work.
She throws up her palms.
“Just stay back. Please? I...I can’t right now.” Her voice is so small, hurt, timid.
Another sucker punch plows my gut, a hideous realization. I was so worried about my parents crushing her, I just did it for them.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I take another step toward her, a strangling lump in my throat.
Before I can reach her, the sliding glass door slams shut between us with a rattle, and she walks away.
“How long was she there?” I ask Nick, not even bothering to face him.
“Long enough, you chucklefuck.”
“Why didn’t you—”
“I tried, stupid! You were on a tirade.”
The worst part is, he’s absolutely right.
I yank on the door and almost rip my arm off.
“Shit. She locked us out.”
Can’t blame her in the slightest. I stand on the balcony, looking through the glass with no way to move forward.
“Now what?” Nick asks.
My foot flies up in answer. I kick the door. The glass rattles in the frame but doesn’t break. High-end materials are made too well.
“Hey, cut it out! Have you lost your mind?” Nick roars.
Yes, and I need to go find it.
Another savage kick makes a crack in the glass.
“Ward, get ahold of yourself. Jesus. What are you doing?” His hands are on my shoulders, trying to rip me back, but I’m not a sane man anymore.
I’m frantic to save my heart from drowning in my own wretched quicksand I poured.
Desperate, mad, and single-minded to save what I could’ve had with her, but was too chickenshit to admit.
“What does it look like?” I yell, my third roundhouse kick shattering the glass into beads. “I’m going after her. If people see her like that, news of our scam will be all over town.”