He shrugs an unforgiving shoulder and looks me directly in the eye. "What can I say? I'm a man who knows what he wants."
I glance around, taking in his apartment on the Upper East Side. I got the underlining hint. It's bright and airy, with neutral blues and gentle grays that create a tranquil feel.
"Is this place new?"
"No. I've had it for years actually. It's where I live, alone." He pauses. "This is where I asked you to meet me before we went to Colorado."
I nod and look back at him, my heart racing even faster now. He's not wearing his wedding band, and his matured eyes appear at ease. He's too damn good-looking. He makes me ache for him just sitting there and it kills me because I can't have him. Dark, distressed jeans and a polo shirt that teases me with his tattoos. He's always been the silent sexy type and he wears it well. I rarely got to see him in short-sleeved shirts before, and now I just want to cover him up, so no one gets to see him like this. I want him for myself.
"You look good," he says.
I give him a droll stare. "I look like shit, James. I'm on weird terms with Natalie, and my grammy died. I feel like death inside and I know I look like it. So cut the act. I don't look good."
Guilt crosses his face. "Natalie told me what happened."
I squeeze my eyes shut and wave it away. I haven't cried in a few days and I'm really trying not to right now. Tipping back the rest of my drink, I place the glass on the table and then reach inside my purse to pull out his check. I slide it across the table. His brows angle toward each other when he sees it.
"Take it back," I say.
"No. It's yours."
"I don't want it, especially not after what you said to me. We didn't finish out our deal anyway, so I didn't earn it."
His eyes lower to slits. "Don't care. It's yours. If you don't want it, then rip it up, but I'm not taking it. Is that why you finally came here? To give it back?"
He's angry, but I'd rather his anger than his love. "One of the reasons."
"What's the other?" he demands, finishing off his drink.
"Do you really want to play this game? Why do you think, James? You're not a stupid man."
Steel eyes stare back at me. "Say it. I want to hear it come from you. Let me hear the words."
My chest tightens just thinking about it, but I know what I need to say. Drawing in a deep breath, I pray I can get this out.
"We're through. There's no more deal, no more us, no more you calling me all hours of the day, no more text messages. It's over. It has to be this way and we both know it. After today, please don't contact me again."
"No."
"I really want Natalie back in my life and if this is how it has to be, then so be it. I'm cleaning up the stupid mistakes I’ve made.
His jaw flexes. "And I'm a mistake."
Oh, hell on earth, I can feel the tears climbing. My stomach is twisting with torment. I thought I could handle this, could stay strong.
My tongue glides over my bottom lip. "I want to call you a mistake, but I won't. You're not a mistake, but what we did was a mistake. I'm no longer an escort, and I don't have a boyfriend anymore. I'm just trying to get right with God and Natalie, and this is the first stop."
He huffs, then smirks. "Boyfriend couldn’t handle your job?"
"Thanks to Natalie, no, but that's beside the point. All I've done is lie and hurt people I care about and I'm not doing it anymore. That's never been who I am."
He sees I'm not playing and sits up straighter. "Is it because of what I said? Because you know I didn't mean it, Aubrey. People say things out of anger. I did, and I'm sorry. I regretted it the moment I said it and I can promise you it will never happen again. Please tell me you don't think I meant it."
I swallow thickly. I truly don't think he meant it, but it still doesn't change the course of action.
"It doesn't matter. It's the truth anyway. What's done is done. And we're done, James."
He brings his hand up to stroke his beard. I hold my breath. James looks away, and I take note of his salt and pepper hair and how it actually suits him so beautifully.