Giving It Up (33 page)

No way was she going back to the mansion, not being suicidal and all. Philip had helped her after she’d been shot, sure. She
had
saved his life, after all. But since then, he’d had time to think, maybe about how she’d betrayed him while living under his roof and on his dime. There was no reason to press her luck.

It had surprised me, though, that she hadn’t moved in with her cop. Sure, I had only just found out about them, but they’d seemed…intimate. But no, she told me when I asked, they weren’t a couple. They’d never even had sex, paid or otherwise. There was
something
there, of course, but it wasn’t enough.

We stood in the fancy furnished apartment, boxes piled high in the large foyer.

“Bailey, no!” I grabbed the painting, but she’d already torn the corner.

I shoved the canvas back into place. It curled up. I stared at the ruined painting of geometrical shapes.

“Please tell me Philip likes to paint. Or he’s one of those guys who likes to support local college kids by buying cheap art.”

“Nope,” Shelly said, sounding almost pleased. “He’s got an art dealer. All famous stuff.”

“Damn,” I said.

Bailey toddled over to Shelly, who handed her a golf-ball-sized rock that looked suspiciously like an emerald.

“Tell me again why we aren’t taking this stuff back,” I said.

“It’s part of the game,” she explained. “That’s why he likes me, because I know how to play.”

“Only rich people would throw away expensive shit for fun,” I grumbled.

“Don’t judge, Allie baby. We’re all mad here.”

There she went again, quoting Alice in Wonderland. Using silly to cover up the serious. I moved to the kitchen and packed the plates in the cabinets.

“You know what I think?” she called from the sofa. “I think he’s sulking.”

I almost thought for a minute that she was talking about Philip, and then I would have agreed that yes, maybe he was. But her voice was way too contented, and that meant she wasn’t talking about her man problems, but mine. I poked my head through the bar to look at her. “Colin doesn’t
sulk
. He’s angry at me. You know, for not telling him about the cops and Jacob and all that.”

She looked puzzled. “But his brother tried to kill you. Doesn’t that mean he loses his right to be mad at you anymore?”

Hmph. That’s exactly what I thought, but apparently not.

I folded up the box I’d emptied and plopped down on the armchair beside Shelly. “This chair is harder than the floor,” I said.

“Rich people,” she said, shaking her head.

“
You’re
a rich person.”

She laughed softly. “I know.”

“Just how much money did Philip give you?”

“Way more than I’m worth.”

My curiosity sparked—what did she
do
to him?—but no. This was Philip, who I both knew and disliked, and I didn’t need the mental images.

“What do you think I should do?” I asked.

“I think you should make him talk to you,” Shelly said.

“Yeah?”

“Or maybe give him time to come around,” she said.

“That’s the exact opposite advice.”

She shrugged. “What the hell do I know about relationships?”

Point taken.

It had been a week. In only a couple of days it had been clear I was physically recovered, but we still hadn’t really talked. We still hadn’t had sex. He barely even acknowledged me.

He’d frozen me out for one week. Surely he couldn’t last much longer.

* * * *

When I woke, it was dark and still, but something prickled at my awareness. I turned my head on the pillow to see Colin standing beside the window, staring between the slit in the curtains, all big and solid and beautiful. I loved him. Well, clearly I’d hit my head. I’d turned into a sap.

But I did love him. I’d proved myself to him, when I hadn’t given the cop information. And he’d proved himself to me, when he’d trusted me about it. It didn’t fix everything, but it was enough. It should be.

I slipped from the bed and padded across the wood floor. He didn’t move, even when I laid my head against his back.

“You never said if you liked them,” I said.

There was a short pause. “Like what?”

“The curtains. I made them, so they’re kinda wonky in places, but they’re a hell of a lot cheaper than what they were trying to sell. If you don’t like them, I can—”

“I like them fine.”

I ran my hands up the smooth muscles of his back to his bunched shoulders. “You’re so tense.”

He said nothing, but he didn’t move away, so I kneaded gently. I hated that he was so upset. If he’d just open up, I could fix it, surely I could. Maybe it was just a high, but after facing the cops, both dirty and clean, and coming out on the other end intact, I felt invincible. I could be normal. We could be together.

He sighed, and his shoulders relaxed just slightly.

“I want to tell you something,” I said.

He tensed even tighter.

“No, no,” I soothed. “It’s nothing bad.”

I waited until he’d leaned back into my hands again, urging me to continue.

“I don’t expect anything from you when I say this. It’s just that, after everything that’s happened, I feel like I should tell you.” I slipped my hands around his waist. “I love you.”

He bolted away so fast I almost fell over.

“Shit,” he said as he steadied me.

I tried not to be offended. And failed. “Shit? I mean, not that I expected you to say it back, but
shit
?”

He paced away from me to the other side of the bed. What was he scared of? His hard expression told me to leave it alone, that I’d never know, but I couldn’t.

“Are you that mad at me? I can’t even love you while you’re mad at me? Well, too bad, because I do. I love you, I love you, I love you—”

He turned and left the room.

Well. That could have gone better. It didn’t matter to me that he said it. I figured a girl who deserved Colin had to learn to read his actions, not his words, but even his actions hurt at this moment.

We were so close. We had everything right there, within our grasp, but he—what? He didn’t believe in it? He didn’t want it?

I wasn’t good enough.

No, dammit! I wouldn’t go down that path again. It wasn’t so much a path as a sinkhole. I’d fallen into the ice, or been pushed. I’d treaded water, stuck, as people gave me pitying looks. No one wanted to come close for fear they might fall in with me, except for Colin.

I
was
good enough. If he didn’t want me…well, I would be devastated. Even my newfound confidence couldn’t protect me from that. But as painful as that would be, I refused to let it define me.

That kind of confidence mumbo jumbo was easier said than done, though. I wanted him, loved him, and his rejection hit hard. I debated leaving him alone, letting him calm down, but it had been a week since the explosion, and we’d gotten no closer to getting over this. No closer to each other.

Down the stairs I went. I found Colin sitting on the couch.

I sat next to him. “Colin,” I said, in my best imitation-Colin voice. “I was hoping we could be together, you know, like a happy ever after, but this doesn’t bode well for my chances.”

It was, of course, a mimic of what he’d said to me that first night. It was also cheesy as hell, but I wanted to make him laugh, and also to show him that he’d been right. We belonged together, and he’d insisted on it until I finally believed. This was the reverse, and to my surprise it worked.

His lips cracked just slightly. Then they slowly, reluctantly widened into a smile.

I cheered inwardly. “Oh, you like that? I’ve got more where that came from.”

“Yeah?” he said, the grin—that sweet, sexy grin—still in place.

“No, that was a lie. Or a horrible attempt to talk dirty. I’m just happy I got you to smile.”

“Hey,” he said. “I’m not that bad.”

He ducked his head to hide his smile. I squirmed onto my belly so I could see it, like a puppy begging for attention.

“You are that bad,” I said up at him. “You’re a bad boy. That’s what I like about you.”

“Really?” he asked skeptically.

“No, not really.” My head rested on his lap. I turned to nuzzle my nose into his abs.

“So everything you’re saying right now—”

“Lies, all of it. I like your smile, though. That’s the truth.”

He leaned back, amused. His hand came up and stroked my hair. I closed my eyes and dreamed.

When I woke up, I was in the bed. In the dark and alone.

I sighed. That man was more obstinate than I gave him credit for. I didn’t want to nag him, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I got up and peeked in Bailey’s room, but she slept on, snoring softly. I went downstairs. He wasn’t in the living room, though the throw pillows were still squashed from where we’d sat on the sofa. I checked his study and the kitchen—nothing. Had I missed him upstairs? Maybe he’d decided to stand
behind
the curtains, seeing as a certain nosy girlfriend had disturbed his reflection last time. I should let him be, but a little bit of unease had wormed its way inside me.

Back upstairs I checked the bathroom, which was still open and dark. Then his closet. His clothes hung there, like always, but there was a gap. It could be a trick of the light. Or maybe it was laundry day.

It wasn’t.

The sadness hit me full force then. He’d left; I knew it.

I checked behind the curtains anyway. Then I went downstairs and stared at the oil blot where his truck should have been parked, to be sure.

What did it mean? Was I supposed to move out? Was I supposed to wait for him?

I’d thought we’d stay together, I really had. And barring that, I figured we’d break up and I’d move out. Never had I really imagined that he’d leave me alone…in his house.

The day dawned drizzly. Bailey watched morning cartoons, happily oblivious to the fact that we’d soon be leaving. I sat on the couch drinking my coffee, memorizing whatever details I could see.

When I got the energy to get up, I’d have to start packing. Then we’d have to move into a new place of our own. The details on how we’d accomplish any of that were hazy, but that didn’t make them less real.

I supposed it made sense that Colin would break up this way. Quietly, the way he did everything else. And it also illustrated just how angry he was with me, that he couldn’t even give me the courtesy of a
get out
.

He just slipped away, leaving me to figure it out and get myself gone. I could stay, make a fuss, but that would just be embarrassing for all of us.

I would miss this place. I would miss Colin more, but for now I soaked in the somber peace of the house. The moldings at the bottom of the wall didn’t match the floorboards. They were a different kind of wood. I’d never gotten to ask Colin if he knew how that had happened

There was a cobweb at the top of the slanted ceiling that I’d never been able to reach, not even standing on a stool and waving a broom. It had been here before me, and it would still be there after I left.

The weather hadn’t stayed warm enough to spend much time in the backyard. I would have liked a barbecue. I’d never been to one, but they sounded nice.

A knock sounded at the door.

If they were knocking, then they weren’t Colin, so I didn’t care.

The knocking grew more insistent. They’d wake up the neighborhood.

I got up and opened the door. It was Detective Cameron, but he didn’t look like Detective Cameron, because instead of a dark suit, he wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt. His hair was jagged, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

“Is she here?” he asked.

Oh, Shelly, what have you done to him?
“She’s not.”

“She’s with
him
, isn’t she? I knew it. I just came from there, but the fucking butler insisted—”

“No, she’s not with Philip either,” I said. “She got her own place.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “She’s okay?”

“She’s fine. Recovering well.”

He understood that I wasn’t going to tell him, not that I could hold him off for long. He would track her down at some point if he wanted to. But if Shelly didn’t want to be with him, what good would it do? It seemed today was the day for breakups.

“Come in if you want.” I opened the door wide.

He tilted his head, trying to glance around me. “Are you sure? I figured I’d have to fight him just to talk to you.”

“He’s not here,” I said. His eyes met mine as he caught the finality in my tone.

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah.”

He glanced behind him before stepping inside. In the living room he gave Bailey a curt nod of introduction. She gave him the cryptic message, “bagel,” before turning back to her show.

I poured him a cup of coffee, and we sat down at the dining room table.

He contemplated the black liquid. “Was it because of…”

“Yes,” I said. Colin had left because of what had happened that night. I’d fucked up, or he just didn’t trust me anymore, but either way it was over. “You really like her, huh?”

He glanced up, his eyes hooded. “Who?”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

“What did she say about me?” he asked cautiously.

“She said—”
She said you two had never had sex, paid or otherwise. It made me wonder why you’d never paid for it if you like her. But then, we all have our hang-ups.
“She said you guys weren’t a couple.”

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “I guess that’s right.”

“Did she move there for you? In with Philip?”

He paused, then shrugged. “I never know why she does what she does.”

“But you think it’s your fault she got shot,” I mused.

The guilt that flashed in his eyes said I was right.

“If it’s any consolation, I think she likes you back.”

“Thanks.” He grimaced. “Could be worse, right?”

We sat there, both of us rejected, trying to imagine what could be worse. Aside from death or grievous injury, there didn’t seem to be much, but that was the kind of morning it was. The morning after a breakup.

“There was something else. We found this at the site. Shelly told me it was yours.” He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and slid it over to me. I didn’t even know how he’d sat down with that in his back pocket, it was so thick. I recognized it, of course. It was filled with money, unless someone had taken it.