Page 80 of When the Walls Come Down
“No. Not just this conversation.” Her shoulders slumped. “This. All of it. I don’t know if I can do this.”
The air went heavy and still around me. My ears began to ring. My chest hammered, and a cold sweat broke across the back of my neck. It boiled down to this one thing.
“Don’t you love me?”
Her eyes were locked on mine, and her mouth parted, but she didn’t reply.
The moment knocked me back a step, literally. And when she moved to come closer to me, I put my hands up and Maggie Peach Light Gray Italian froze.
I’d felt pain before. Disappointment. Rejection.
I knew what it was like not to be the right guy. Not the one.
But never, in all of my thirty-three-old-ass years, had I felt like I’d been that close to happiness and then practically watched it slip right through my fingers.
“Shane,” she began, but I waved my hand between us and she stopped.
Finding the willpower to speak from some secret reserve, I said, “Why don’t you go back in, Peach. It’s fine. Have breakfast with your brother.”
Her chest was rising and falling about as rapidly as mine, and she’d paled. All the flush from our argument had drained from her cheeks. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I need a minute.” I straightened my back to put up a good front. “Go ahead.”
She bit at the corner of her lip. “Are you really sure?”
“Maggie. Just. Go.”
I didn’t like that I’d raised my voice, but had I been able to help it, I would have. Those three words had her turning and briskly walking away.
I stared at the brick wall across from me long enough for the shapes and patterns to blur, waiting for the burn in my chest to just ease up, because I knew it wasn’t going to leave. Ironic that, after all this, I was still staring at a wall when I’d thought I’d just torn all of them down.
Turns out, some walls are there for a reason.I stood outside the restaurant door for several minutes, willing myself to breathe normally again.
What the fuck had just happened?
My heart hurt. My brain hurt. I swear I think a part of my soul even ached.
Not long ago, I’d packed all of my belongings into a car and prepared to start my life. To forge my own path. To take risks and, as Melanie had reminded me, to make mistakes.
Oh, I’d made a mistake all right.
I’d fallen in love with a thirty-three-year-old man who had already made his life and was ready to settle down.
Slapping on the fakest smile I could muster, I walked back inside and found Heath typing on his phone, three plates of food on the table in front of him.
His head popped up when I slid into my chair. “Everything okay?”
Nope. Not even close.
“Yeah,” I whispered, not trusting my voice. I felt the weight of his heavy gaze searching my face, but I avoided eye contact by unfolding my napkin and putting it on my lap. “Eat before it gets cold.”
“Uh, is your guy coming back?”
My guy. My guy. Fuck.
I’m sure the food was great. Who could go wrong with a ham and gruyère quiche? But just the thought of eating made my stomach roll. I’d give it a try though, if for no other reason than to finish so we could hurry up and get the hell out of there. Unfortunately, the idea of going home and walking past his apartment didn’t hold much appeal, either.
“No, he, um, had to go,” I replied, lifting my fork only to reveal the shake of my hand.
He quickly covered it with his own. “Jesus, Mags. What the hell happened out there?”
Now wasn’t that the million-dollar question. Though I was terrified I already knew the answer.
“I think I just lost him.” Oh, yeah. Even the words felt like razor blades in my throat.
He released my hand and tore into his Southwest omelet. “Good. He’s too old for you.”
That was quite possibly the most Heath thing I had ever heard him say. But my heart was breaking, so it also pissed me off more than anything he’d ever said in his life.
I dropped my fork to my plate with a clatter. “You know what? Shut up, Heath. You don’t get to say shit about Shane. Yeah. Fine. He’s too old for me. But he’s a good man who in the span of one month made me happier than I’ve ever been before.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah? You don’t seem real happy right now, Maggie.”
I stabbed a finger at my chest. “That’s on me though. Not him. He wants a life I can’t give him. He wants a house and a wife and babies. And I am so fucking paralyzed with fear that I’m going to end up just like Mom, wasting my entire life on somebody else’s dream.”
