She shrugged, totally oblivious to the turmoil she had caused. “Okay then, thought I’d try. The drive is always nicer with two people.” She drew on her sweater. “Thank you for dinner, Zachary.”
He moved past me, avoiding my touch. “I’ll let the dogs out and watch you to make sure you arrive home safely.”
The door closed, shutting off her laughter.
I walked to the kitchen, automatically straightening up, needing to stay busy, my mind racing. His first instinct—his first thought—had been I was leaving. He still couldn’t accept he was loved or he came first to someone. He actually thought I would walk away from him.
My head snapped up at the sound of the door opening. When Zachary appeared in the kitchen, I shut the door to the dishwasher and turned to face him. I expected anger and confusion on his face. I expected him to start yelling or to close in on himself, but all I saw was sorrow. His eyes were resigned, his shoulders slumped as we stared at each other.
He was composed—too composed. “You’re leaving.”
I stepped forward. “Karen shouldn’t have said anything.”
“She probably thought you told me.” There was no doubt I was hearing some hurt in his voice.
“I only decided this afternoon when I spoke with her. I was going to tell you.” I smiled, trying to get him to understand. “You, ah, had me pretty busy before she arrived.”
A glimmer of a smile appeared on his mouth, but then he shook his head and frowned. “Why, Megan? Why are you going back there?”
I stepped closer until we were almost touching. “I’m not leaving you, Zachary.”
He started to speak, but I cut him off.
“I’m not leaving you,” I stated clearly. I needed him to understand.
“What are you doing, then?”
“I have to go back and meet with Jared. Then I’ll be back. ”
His composure disappeared. “What? Why the fuck would you want to do that?”
“I have to put this behind me.”
“Fine. I’ll give you the money for a lawyer and they can fight it for you. Hire experts to prove he is lying.”
“I’m not fighting it. I’m walking away.”
“You can’t do that. You have other options.”
My eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t have other options. I can and I am. It’s my decision.”
“He stole your work.”
“Yes, he did, and without me accepting his payout or recanting my story, he might not get it published.” I shrugged. “We both lose.”
“Fight it! I’ll give you the money! I have plenty!”
“I don’t want your money!” Weeks of pent up anger exploded, and suddenly I was yelling. “It’s a lost cause, Zachary! He has the book—my notes—even my fucking ideas about the cover! He has it all! I worked for him! Slept with him! Do you know how this all looks to people?” I paused, dragging in a deep breath. “His story is airtight! He told me about the book. He showed me the chapters. He even managed to show a date line! He’s an established, successful author. I’m the ex-girlfriend who’s doing this because she’s bitter about the breakup and wants to make a name for herself, since she’s trying to become a writer.” I sat down on the chair in front of him, tired. “There’s nothing to fight. It’s done.” I looked up at him. “I’m only going to finish it. Please understand.”
He kneeled in front of me, cupping my face. “I hate the bastard.”
“I’m not so fond of him myself. I can’t take your money, Zachary.”
He nodded in understanding. “I don’t want you to go.”
I wrapped my hand around his, stroking the hardened flesh tenderly. “I have to. I’ll only be gone a few days.”
“You’ll come back?”
I nodded. “I’ll bring a few more things with me.”
“Megan”—he hesitated—“does your decision not to fight this have anything to do with me?”
I closed my eyes and nodded. “I’d already made up my mind for the most part, but it factored into my final decision. I won’t risk your privacy.”
His fast intake of air and the way his hands tightened on my skin made me open my eyes. “I hate you’re giving up because of me.”
“I’m not giving up. I’m moving on. Don’t ask me to change my mind, and don’t be angry with me, please.”
“Anger isn’t what I’m feeling right now.”
I searched his face. “What is?”
His mouth hovered over mine. “Love. Only love, Megan.”21MeganI inhaled the clean ocean air. I would miss the smell, even if it was only for a few days. My small bag was packed and I was ready to go, even though I really didn’t want to. I wanted to let Bill handle it, tell Jared I refused his “generous” offer, and stay here with Zachary.
I had to confront him myself, though. I wanted to see the look on his face when he realized he wasn’t getting his way, and I wouldn’t be bullied. I didn’t care what happened with the book now—if it got published or not was irrelevant at this point. I was going to move ahead, in Cliff’s Edge with Zachary. Together, we’d find our own path and when I was ready, I would try writing again. More than once, Zachary had hinted at me staying close to him. He had reminded me Ashley hired staff in the busy summer months at the gallery and the hours were flexible, which would leave lots of writing time. Karen told me I could stay here at her beach house as long as I needed. My lease was up on my apartment in the fall, and the thought of living here was a far more pleasant one than staying on in Boston. It would be a fresh start. Dixie loved it here, too.