The Trouble with Love (Sex, Love & Stiletto 4)

Emma’s hands came up to grasp his wrists.

Then she did the only thing she could think of that would allow them both to move on from this web of pain they’d snagged themselves back into.

“I want you to go.” Her words were quiet. But firm.

He released her as though she’d burned him. Probably because she had.

He rubbed a hand over his face, looking stunned, before disappearing into the bedroom. He came back with his wool coat.

“Have fun with your family,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

“You, too,” she said in a monotone drone.

He reached for the doorknob, then turned back. “One last thing. You’re the one that told me to get lost that night. So I did. But our friends seem to have it in their heads that I somehow left you at the altar. Jake said they have this vision of you standing there on our wedding day, waiting for a groom that never showed up. Why is that? I can understand if you needed to save face, I’ve just . . . wondered. Wondered what happened after I left you in the parking lot that night.”

Emma crossed her arms and looked at her toes.

It was time to end this. Once and for all.

“After . . . our fight, I went home. Daisy drove me. And I climbed into bed and cried for hours, feeling so awfully, horribly bad for myself. I’d spent most of my life feeling like the duller, less sparkly version of my twin, and knowing that you’d thought that, too . . . it was a bit like a knife in the gut, you know? I’d clung so hard to the fact that you’d chosen me, and then there was all this evidence that you’d chosen me for the wrong reasons.”

He opened his mouth, but shut it just as quickly, letting her finish.

Emma shook her head and gave a little laugh. “It took me until about two a.m. to come to my senses.”

She glanced up then. Met his eyes. “I was still hurt. Horribly so. And I was unsure of everything except the fact that I loved you.”

His eyes flared.

“I figured that it was one doozy of a fight, but that it would blow over in the morning after a good night’s sleep. . . . I thought you’d forgive me for losing my temper and throwing that ring at you, because we were getting married, Cassidy. I thought it would take more than a southern belle’s fit to break that.”

“You told

me you never wanted to see me again,” he whispered. “I believed that. You told me to leave. So I did.”

“I get that,” she said, her voice small. “I understand. But I thought you’d come back. I was so sure of it. It’s why I got up the next morning and let Daisy put cucumbers on my eyes to reduce the puffiness, and let the makeup artist apply a thick mask of foundation to disguise my red nose and blotchy cheeks. I thought you’d come back,” her voice broke.

“Emma.” He reached out a hand, but she stepped back.

“I waited until an hour after the ceremony was supposed to have ended. I waited even after all the guests left. I waited until Daisy wrapped me in a huge fleece blanket and literally dragged me into Daddy’s car.”

“I didn’t know,” he whispered.

Her laugh was small. “Which part was unclear? The sobbing voice mails? The dozens of crazed text messages?”

Cassidy’s eyes closed. “You called me.”

“Like a hundred times.” She hugged herself, lost in her own world of wretched memories. “I begged, Cassidy. I’m not letting you off the hook for using me to wiggle into my father’s company, but I didn’t let myself off the hook, either. I apologized over and over, and I would have done so in person, but you didn’t even give me that chance. That is not the action of a man in love.” She shrugged. “So I did what I had to do. I fell out of love with you.”

Or at least I tried.

He swallowed.

“And I can’t go back,” she said with a small smile. “I’m not doing that again. If you care at all, let me go. Please. Let me heal.”

He stared at her for several painful seconds. Then he moved toward her, smiling sadly when she flinched. His head dipped to hers; his lips brushed her cheek, softly. Sweetly.

“This isn’t over, Emma.”