Hard to Hold (True Romance) (16 page)

Not that it had been easy. He did not doubt that Anne was a remarkable woman. Funny. Sexy. Smart. In the short time they’d had together before she left for Egypt, they’d had a great time. But when she was around—heck, even when she wasn’t—the world spun around him, dipping and diving like an out-of-control roller coaster. They needed time to slow down, ease into things.

He schooled his face into a logical and reasonable expression. “I just think we should slow down for a little while. Get our bearings, you know?”

Her scowl nearly melted the skin off his skull. “No, Michael, I don’t know. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

Mike took a deep breath and gestured toward the couch. She sat, but instantly crossed both her arms and her legs.

Not a good sign.

He shut the door behind him. Though the possibility of a quick escape crossed his mind, he didn’t want to leave Anne. Breaking up with her was not what he was doing. Not in any way, shape, or form. In fact, he was trying to keep them together.

He’d had all weekend to think about his relationship with Anne and one thing was very clear—he cared about her. Deeply. And that was the problem. He was too into her for someone who’d been on her radar for so short a time. He’d missed her too much when she was gone, and yet, he’d acted like an idiot during most of their interactions. He’d come to the conclusion that he simply wasn’t ready for the kind of intimacy he and Anne were headed toward.

“Every woman I’ve ever dated for any period of time was a friend first. I mean, I met them that way and we got to know each other as friends before we got exclusive. You and I skipped that part—and it’s my fault. We went straight into a relationship, without stopping to think. Without stopping to get to know each other. As friends.”

Her scowl had not softened one iota. “So that’s your usual
modus operandi
with women? Good to know. But, how exactly has that worked out for you so far?”

As she’d intended, her sarcasm sliced straight through him.

“That’s not the point,” he deflected.

She chuckled, but the sound was entirely without humor.

“You know what? You’re right. It’s not the point. If you don’t want to take your past into consideration when attempting to build a future, that’s your choice. I, on the other hand, have tried to learn from my mistakes.”

She stood again, pacing around the small living space, making it seem even more cramped and cluttered. When she nearly stumbled over a still-packed suitcase, she kicked it out of her way. It thumped into her side table, rattling the lamp and dusty knickknacks.

“Anne—”

She cut him off instantly. “No, Michael. You’re being honest with me, I get that. But I need to be honest with you, too. My whole life, I’ve been the
friend
.” She drew drawing air quotes around the word and sneered as she said it, as if being someone’s friend was a fate worse than death. “You know all the cute boys in school? The popular jocks and the student-body president? I was always their very good friend. I was the funny girl who didn’t blush or giggle, but treated them like real people. I was the smart chick who could help them with their homework and still talk to them about the latest stats for the Orioles. The whole time, I was secretly crushing on most of them but they never gave me a second look.”

He scooted forward and grabbed the chance to prove his point. “See? I never knew that about you. There’s a lot I don’t know about you. And I want to learn it all—but without the pressure of trying to manage a committed relationship at the same time.”

Anne shook her head. “That may sound ideal to you, Mike, but to me, it’s torture. I won’t live that way again. I certainly won’t fall in love that way. I’m sorry, but I’m not looking for another guy friend. I’ve reached my quota. I’m looking for someone to share my life with. A partner. A soul mate. A lover. If you can’t be those things, then I think you’d better go.”

Mike gaped at her, but no matter how long he stared, she didn’t flinch. She was furious. He could feel the anger radiating off her skin, even though he knew if he made any attempt to touch her, she’d freeze him out. Or punch him out.

He hadn’t meant to, but in his attempt to save their relationship, he’d touched a very raw nerve. Maybe she needed time to think. He knew he did.

He rose to his feet, a dull ache clutching at his insides. He’d anticipated that this conversation might not go well, but he’d never imagined she’d ask him to leave. Not that she didn’t have the right. He hadn’t intended to dig into her past wounds. But this just proved his point. If he’d known more about her past relationships, he would have found a different way to say what desperately needed to be said.

He moved toward the door. He wanted to say something— anything. But when he turned, she flung her bedroom door shut with a definitive slam.

He didn’t remember how he got back to his apartment. Might have been the elevator. Might have been the stairs. Even Sirus seemed to sense something was wrong because instead of greeting him with her usual frantic tail-wagging and excited bouncing, she sidled up with her head down and her tail tucked between her legs. He flopped onto the couch and the dog immediately jumped beside him and curled over his lap. She’d been his salvation when Lisa had left, but he didn’t want her to play that role this time—mainly, because he didn’t want to lose Anne.

Trouble was, he feared that he already had.

He raked his hands through his hair. He’d done a lot of soul-searching. He’d told her the truth. But maybe he shouldn’t have hit her with his insights only seconds after she’d opened her door.

“Sirus, I screwed up.”

The dog looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and trusting, as if she couldn’t believe her master could do anything wrong. He scratched her ears, loving her all the more for her canine naïveté. But the truth was, while his delivery had sucked, his conclusions had been solid.

As he’d climbed the trails behind Sirus, he’d come to terms with the fact that the strongest emotion he felt for Anne was lust. He admired her and liked her and respected her, but none of those things haunted him in the dead of night or tortured him as they sat on his bed looking at scrapbooks or watching basketball. In his entire life, he’d never felt such a powerful pull to someone. His need for her transcended mere physical desires, though those were powerfully strong in and of themselves. If he didn’t erect a few barriers, they might fall into something serious before either of them was ready.

Before he was ready.

This was the truth that hurt—the stark reality he’d faced when he’d been out in the middle of nowhere, influenced only by the sharp spring breeze, turquoise skies, and rough terrain. Anne could not be just a friend or just a lover or
just
anything. She was the whole package—the real deal. If he went full force into this relationship, there was only one inevitable outcome.

Marriage.

And for this lifetime commitment, he simply wasn’t prepared.

Anne glanced at the label on the bottle of shiraz the waiter dropped off at their table. When she saw that it came from someplace called the Hope Estate winery, she snickered. Over the course of the last week, she’d done little but
hope
that Michael would come to his senses. Then she’d tried to
hope
that she’d forget about him by focusing on her job, her friends, and her knitting. But as none of her hopes had come through, she decided to just drink the damned wine and be done with it.

“Wow, Shane,” Adele exclaimed, gently lifting the fluffy blanket Shane had nestled in her lap. “You’re getting really good.”

“Thanks,” Shane said, tossing her hair in exaggerated hubris. “I can’t believe I resisted this for so long. It’s very therapeutic.”

“Especially when you only knit when drinking wine,” Adele replied, pouring the new arrival into fresh glasses.

Shane lifted her shiraz, made a toasting gesture and said, “Wine helps,” before taking a measured sip.

Anne looked at the deep, ruby-red vintage with abject skepticism. Wine might help make knitting more palatable to Shane, but it had, so far, done very little to dull Anne’s heartache.

Hashing out the implosion of her burgeoning relationship with Michael had been done—and then some. Shortly after he’d left, she’d put emergency calls in to both Shane and Adele, who responded instantly. They cancelled their plans, descended immediately onto her apartment with the DVD of
Kill Bill, Volume 2,
a two-pound box of Whitman’s chocolate, and a cheap bottle of wine, all courtesy of the businesses on Lark Street.

In four hours, Anne had not only relived the keen disappointment of Michael backing off from their relationship, but also every indignity, disappointment, or heartbreak she’d endured since puberty. She was sure Michael had no idea how he’d struck her in such a vulnerable spot—but he had, and to date, she had not found the right balm to soothe the pain.

“How are you doing?” Adele asked.

The sympathetic melody in her voice scraped against the edges of Anne’s spine, but she forced another smile. She hadn’t minded revealing the depth of her depression right after she’d tossed Michael out, but she didn’t really want them to know how little she’d recovered since. Yes, barely seven days had gone by, but she and Michael had only been seeing each other for a very short time—too short a time for her to fall in love with him. So how much despair time should she be allotted?

“Have you heard from Samir?”

Adele’s question brought Shane bolt upright. “Samir? Who is this Samir you speak of?”

“Just a hot Egyptian man who couldn’t keep his eyes off Anne the whole time we were on the cruise on the Nile.”

Shane tossed down her knitting needles with a clatter. “Now just wait one minute. I’ve been at your apartment nearly every night since you got back and you never once mentioned anyone named Samir.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to mention,” Anne said, though now that Adele had brought it up, thinking about how shamelessly the man had flirted with her did beef up her confidence a little bit.

Which, undoubtedly, was why she’d brought it up.

“Besides, he had no way of contacting me,” she concluded.

“Yes, he does,” Adele said. “I gave him your e-mail.”

“My work e-mail?”

“Your personal e-mail, you dweeb. I’m not entirely mindless.”

“He’s not going to contact me,” Anne said. “He was getting married, remember?”

“To his cousin,” Adele retorted.

Anne took another sip of her wine. Her friend did not understand the nuances of arranged marriages and she wasn’t in the proper state of mind to explain. Whether or not Samir would email her wasn’t the issue. She had no intention of emailing him back.

His attention during her vacation had been very nice. He’d pointed her and Adele in the direction of several interesting Egyptian locations. And his transparent flirting—which they both had known would come to nothing—reminded her that while Michael might no longer be interested in her, that didn’t make her any less interesting.

“So you met this guy on your trip?” Shane asked, her expression ravenous for gossip.

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter,” Anne insisted.

“Because he’s getting married or because you’re still hung up on Michael?”

She glared at her friend. Most times, she loved Shane for her ability to cut to the chase of any given situation, but Anne was done boo-hooing. At least, publicly.

“Samir is undoubtedly happily wed by now and of course I’m still hung up on Michael. It’s only been a week. I still need more time than that to sort out how I feel about it all,” she said. “If it can be sorted.”

Shane tapped her knitting needles menacingly on the top of the table. “The whole thing makes absolutely no sense. I mean, I suppose he just got scared because you’re so wonderful and he didn’t think he deserved you.”

“That’s the only thing that would make sense,” Adele piped in. “You overwhelmed him with your awesomeness.”

Even as Anne pretended to make gagging noises, she smiled. She wasn’t any happier about Michael’s choices, but at least for the moment, she didn’t feel quite so crappy about them.

“I love you guys.”

“And well you should.” Shane lifted her glass in a toast.

They knitted, drank, and chatted for another hour until Adele coiled her half-finished scarf into her bag and insisted she head home before her stitches got too sloppy. They made tentative plans to hook up again next week, and then Anne and Shane headed back home on foot while Adele drove off in the other direction.

“So, did you kiss him?” Shane asked, after they’d walked in silence for one city block.

“Who?” she asked. “Michael? Yeah, I kissed him right before I threw him out of my place, just so he’d know what he was missing.”

“You did?”

Somehow, she didn’t like how shocked Shane sounded.

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking about him anyway,” Shane responded, waving her hand. “You should have kicked Michael, not kissed him. I meant this Samir guy. He sounds fascinating.”

“Married,” Anne said, holding up her ring finger, which proved nothing since hers was bare and at this rate, might remain so for the rest of her life. “And no, I didn’t kiss him. I wanted Michael. I still do.”

Surprisingly, Shane didn’t argue and for this, Anne was grateful. Despite most outward signs, she wasn’t as angry with Michael as she was disappointed. She knew in her soul that they’d connected. Her heart still clung to the bits of his essence that he’d revealed to her. His humor. His intelligence. His strong sense of justice, which balanced against an equally powerful sense of fun.

But after three weeks overseas and their nearly instantaneous breakup upon her return home, Anne knew she had to become accustomed to missing him. The ache might haunt her, but the pain would dull. She’d already thrown herself into the process by keeping busy, volunteering to take the night desk upon her return when the regular guy unexpectedly quit. Except for tonight, the four in the afternoon until midnight shift kept her out of the building during the hours Michael would likely have been home or out walking Sirus or visiting the neighbors she’d introduced him to. So far, she’d avoided running into him in the hallway or being trapped with him in the elevator, but eventually, they’d meet up and she’d have to find a way to act as if his decision to try and rewind their relationship hadn’t shattered her soul.