City of Angels
He watched her face, uncertain if he was doing the right thing by revealing so much. But he couldn’t keep it from her. Now that he’d made the decision to tell her, he had to go all in.
“All about me?”
“I wanted you. I craved you. And I was so damn frustrated that I couldn’t have you. She got that.” He ran his fingers through his hair, knowing he had to tell her the rest. “She knew that I hadn’t really been with a woman since you. And she’s the reason that I thought it would be different with you.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Jane? Jane, I really need to know if I’m making a huge mistake telling you all this.”
She blinked, looking a little shell-shocked, but she shook her head. “No. No the mistake was not telling me before. Keep going.”
He wasn’t entirely sure he believed her, but he knew he had to get it all out. “After a while, Adele wanted to—I don’t know. Role play, I guess. Pretend to be you. Have me—take you.”
Her brows rose to her hairline. “Like what I suggested. About the Woman. Oh, god.” She hugged herself, her brow furrowing. “She thought if you did that, you’d get over me?”
“No. No, it wasn’t like that. Just the opposite. She thought it would get me off. That I’d be able to, well, fuck her if I pretended it was you.”
“Oh.” She dragged her teeth over her lower lip. “And did you?”
“Jane, come on. You know I didn’t. I told you. You’re the only woman I’ve—”
“No. I mean, did you try.”
“Hell no.” His words were harsh as he remembered his disgust with Adele. With himself. “That was when I ended it.”
Her relief was so visible he would have laughed if he wasn’t already so twisted up inside. “And that’s it,” he said. “That’s the story on me and Adele. And I didn’t tell you before for two reasons. It’s done. Over. So I didn’t see the point. But more than that, the thought of you was so wrapped up in my entire, screwed up relationship with her that I didn’t—I don’t—want you to feel like everything between the two of us ties back to sex.”
She shook her head and came around the island with the bottle of wine. She moved to him and topped off his glass. A perfectly simple, perfectly normal thing to do, but it filled him with so much hope he could feel his heart expand.
“I don’t think we’re all about sex.” She looked up, not smiling. But he thought he saw a spark in her eyes.
“Maybe not. But I was afraid you would start to if you knew how fucked up being around Adele made me. Like witchcraft.”
“Bitchcraft is more like it.” She smirked. “And yes, that’s not fair. I mean, I liked her well enough before. And you’re both consenting adults. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Jane.”
“No, let me finish.” She polished off the rest of her wine. “I don’t—I couldn’t ever—think that what’s between us is only sex. But it is a huge part of it. And I think that’s why it hurts knowing you …”
“And that’s the other reason I didn’t tell you.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What? You didn’t want me to know? Figured it could just stay a big secret?”
“I was ashamed,” he said, and felt ten times lighter after the admission.
She tilted her head, her expression softening. “Oh, Dallas. Oh, damn. No. No. What you did—why you did it—there’s nothing to be ashamed of. But just because it’s not shameful doesn’t mean I like it. You know?”
“I do.”
She poured herself a fresh glass and took a swallow. “It’s just that it feels like a secret, after you promised not to keep secrets.”
“It was history, baby. Not a secret. Just an empty place.” That wasn’t entirely true, but he damn sure wanted it to be. “I don’t need an itemized list of who you slept with between Bill and me.”
“But if I’d slept with Liam, you would.”
He felt the kick in his gut. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I would.” He took a step toward her, wanting so badly to touch her, but he kept one hand on his wineglass and the other in his pocket. “So how many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
She shook her head slowly. “I guess we’ll find out.” She set her wineglass down. “The couch pulls out into a sofa, so you can stay here tonight if you want. Or you can go grab a suite at the Beverly Wilshire or something.”
“Room service and comfortable mattresses are highly overrated,” he said. “I’ll stay here.”
“Okay, then.” She licked her lips. “I have work and some errands to run, but I’ll be back later. You can hang or call a taxi or—”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. He didn’t believe that she had things to do outside of the house, but he did believe that she needed her space. Even so, he wasn’t about to leave if she wasn’t kicking him out.
“Cool.” She bit her lower lip. “So, there’s not much to eat in the house, but there’s a basket of delivery menus by the microwave. And probably ice cream in the freezer.”
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated.
“Right.” She hesitated, and he had the distinct impression that she had to force herself not to move closer and kiss him goodbye. “I’ll just get going, then.”
She grabbed her purse and keys and moved toward the door.
He knew he should just stay silent, but once she’d opened the door and the reality of her leaving was slapping him in the face, he couldn’t keep quiet. “Jane,” he said, then waited for her to turn. “Are we going to be okay?”
She hesitated, and in those few moments, he felt as though he were dying. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “But I didn’t kick you out of the house. That must count for something.”