Beautiful Secret (Beautiful Bastard 4)

I closed my eyes, laughing. “Touché.”

“If I may drop the professionalism entirely for a moment?”

“Of course,” I said, feeling oddly hungry for her wisdom in a way I hadn’t expected. “Please.”

“You have known me as an instructor, and then quasi-mentor, and now as a trusted colleague. But I am a woman first, Niall. I was married at twenty, for five years, and then divorced. I married again when I was in my late thirties. With the distance of age and wisdom, I am able to tell you as gently as possible that your reason for this visit is wildly presumptuous. Ruby doesn’t need you speaking on her behalf. In addition to all of these accolades I’ve already mentioned, she’s also come to see me.” Maggie’s eyes smiled. “Quite amazing, that one.”

I felt my brows rise to my hairline. “Truly.”

“Ruby doesn’t need a knight in shining armor. She needs a partner, I suspect. She needs to know that she is seen. And loved. And, occasionally, the inner mechanics of how she is loved. She is an engineer. Show her how you are put together. Show her the bolts, and wires, and map of your thoughts when you can.”

* * *

I didn’t bother going home or to the office after my conversation with Maggie. The hour-long train ride was a form of torture. I wished for the gift of flight or the ability to teleport. What Maggie had said was true and so obvious: I had to tell Ruby how I felt.

I climbed the slate steps to her flat, hesitating outside the door for a hundred pounding heartbeats, before holding my breath, and knocking.

She opened the door, wearing a smart skirt and fitted sweater with a neckline that showed the top swell of her breasts. I can’t imagine what my expression was when I took her in fully, but when I searched her eyes, I saw a tenderness there that surprised—and thrilled—me.

“Ruby.”

“You okay?” she asked, eyes searching.

I tried to draw a breath deep enough to feel calm, but couldn’t. “No.”

“You look terrible.”

I nodded, letting out a short, wry laugh. “I’m sure you’re right.”

She looked over my shoulder, face tight with anguish. “Why are you here?”

“Because I needed to see you.”

She looked back to me, her eyes scanning my face. “Part of me wants to pull you in, and kiss you like crazy. I miss it, and can’t pretend I don’t still feel it.”

“Then don’t push me away,” I begged her, taking a step closer. “Ruby, I should have told you how I felt that night we made love. I felt it then; I just didn’t know how to name it, or whether I trusted myself enough to believe it.”

She was shaking her head, eyes glassy with tears, and I could tell she didn’t want me to say it, but I needed to.

“I love you,” I whispered, urgency making my voice thin. “I am desperately in love with you.”

“Niall—”

“I knew it at Portia’s. I felt sick being there. I don’t know why I went, but if nothing else it clarified everything for me.”

Ruby laughed, a little humorlessly. “It clarified things for me, too.”

I groaned. “Please, Ruby, forgive me.”

“I want to. I really do. But I don’t know how to move past that feeling of humiliation and this deep, exhausted frustration. All of it: trying to figure out what you needed, trying to be everything for you in every moment. Then telling you I love you, hearing you say ‘you’re lovely’ in return, losing my job, and then—the worst—being told you were going to have dinner with Portia to discuss your marriage . . . I just still feel really raw.”

“I think I felt like I had to close this one door,” I tried to explain. “Or, maybe I just had never heard Portia sound so emotional and a very dark part of me was morbidly curious. But I didn’t consider your feelings really until I went, and it was terrible of me. As soon as I got there I knew there was no conversation to be had, no long-buried truths to be shared. I felt unfaithful to you just being there—”

“Because you were.”

I closed my eyes. It was shattering to see her like this. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are,” she said, nodding. “And I think I get it. But I can’t help it. I’m mad at you.”

Wiping my hand across the stubble on my jaw, I whispered, “Please let me in.”

Looking up at me, she said very quietly, “Is it weird to feel like I need to say no? Like, I need to make sure I can? I gave you time to work through every tiny hesitation. I tried to be understanding and patient, but as soon as you had the chance, you didn’t give my feelings the same consideration. I lost myself somewhere in the last six months. I told you to trust me to tell you where my limits are. This is a limit. You disregarded me, and so obliviously.” She dropped her voice, looking straight into my eyes, and said, “I thought that wasn’t the kind of relationship you wanted anymore.”