Damn Wright (The Wrights 2)

“Those are my terms,” Liam said. “I won’t say a fucking word about you working on that house with the ex-husband I didn’t even know about if you set a date for our wedding and meet my parents.”

“Terms?” Emma’s internal walls folded in on her. How had she let this happen? She’d spent eighteen months with this man. She’d agreed to marry him. Yet she hadn’t let herself see this dark side. One she only recognized in retrospect. “This isn’t a contract, and we’re not drawing up terms. This is a relationship, and if you can’t accept the imperfections inherent in all relationships, then we shouldn’t be getting married.”

He laughed. One sharp, cynical laugh. “You’ve never been mine, have you? You’ve never been all-in. Not even when you said you’d marry me. Not even when I put that ring on your finger.” His voice urged her to tell him what he wanted to hear. “This is your chance to prove me wrong.”

Disillusionment pushed aside her anger. “I shouldn’t have to prove anything to you.”

“I guess that’s all I need to know.” Liam turned and stalked to the driver’s door of his SUV. He swung the door wide, then looked at Emma again. “I waited a fucking year and a half for you to be ready. But you were never going to be ready. You knew it, and you wasted my time.”

“Wow.” She shook her head. “It’s nice to know you thought being with me was a waste of time.”

He slammed the door, revved the engine, and peeled away from the curb with a screech. Emma was, once again, ashamed of his childish behavior.

She crossed one arm over her middle and pressed her other hand to her forehead. “Fuck my life.”

Only now did she realize this had been inevitable. As if she had blinders removed, she saw the full scope of how poorly matched they were. She’d been blinded by his good looks, the ease of his life with rich parents, the way he’d breezed through medical school. She was disgusted at the way he’d developed the God complex, a common affliction for surgeons. Disgusted it had taken her so long to see it.

A car door closed, jolting Emma back to the present. She dropped her hand, looked up, and found Dylan crossing the street.

Holy. Fuck. She’d forgotten he was waiting. She realized he’d seen, and probably heard, everything.

Anger rose to the surface. So much anger. At Liam, at Dylan, at herself. “You asshole. That was my story to tell, at the right time. You had no right to take that away from me. No right to slap Liam in the face with it.”

Dylan stood too close, one hand pressed to the hood of her car. “You deserve better than a guy who would walk away from you that easily.”

“You mean the way you did?”

“There wasn’t one goddamned thing easy about turning you away. Besides, I’m not that guy anymore. I know how badly I fucked up. I’d be happy to scream it from the rooftops if that makes you feel better. And I’m going to make it up to you.”

Emma was swamped with so much anger and hurt, her brain wasn’t working. “You promised me forever and then you abandoned me. You can’t make that kind of shit up to a person.”

She stalked around him toward the driver’s side of her car, fury twisting inside her. Dylan moved with her and stood in front of the door so she couldn’t open it.

“What is his deal with money? He’s obviously swimming in it. Why is he driving a new Lexus when your Honda looks like it could die any second? Why is he giving you a twenty-five-thousand-dollar ring when you can barely afford groceries?”

Dammit. He’d just confirmed her fear—he’d heard every word of her argument with Liam. She leaned in. “That’s not his responsibility. I take care of myself.”

“If you want to take care of yourself, why get married at all? You don’t even love him.”

She stepped closer, her voice rising. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“There wasn’t an ounce of passion in that argument. It was a fucking negotiation.”

She took the last step, closing the distance. “Don’t you dare stand here and try to tell me how I feel about anyone. I’m not nineteen. And you don’t know who I am anymore.”

“I know you, Emma. I know you inside and out, like it or not.” His voice was maddeningly level. “If you loved him, you’d have tears in your eyes the way you did last night when you saw me. If you loved him, you would have moved in with him, planned your wedding, met his parents, the way you did with me. And if he loved you, he would have pitched in with Shelly’s house. You’d have that thing sold and your loans paid down by now.”

Fuck her to hell and back, he was right. And that blew the top off her rage.

“Just admit it,” he said, his voice imploring. “You still want me.”

His audacity shocked her. “The hell I do.”

“You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t still have feelings for me.”

“I’m angry because you’re an ass. It has nothing to do with my feelings.”

“Really.”