Page 27 of Hold You Close
Caring about you so much but pretending to hate you more.
“Thinking things could ever change.”
I’m done with him and feeling this way. I’ll be there for those kids because I love them with my whole heart. No matter what lingering issues are between Ian and me, we’re not entering any kind of relationship different from what it’s been for years.
Hostility and resentment.
Because hate is easier than love. If I hate him and he lets me down, I’m not left disappointed.
Ian sighs. He looks up to the sky and then back to me. “I know, I’m an asshole. You’re better than me, and I’m never going to change and you’ll always hate me. Let’s chalk this up to grief and your inability to hold your liquor.”
My walls are back up and the door we opened just now is cemented shut. “Prick.”
“I got a big one of those, huh?”
Yeah, you do.
“I’ve had bigger,” I lie.
No need to inflate his already ridiculous ego.
“Whatever you say, London. Now will you please come back with me and help? I’m sorry I disturbed your very busy night with your new friends Pinot and Chardonnay.”
“Sure, only because you’ll pay for this later.” I smile, ignoring the jab.
He groans as I saunter past him and his voice is low, but I hear him clearly. “I don’t doubt that.”
The truth is, as pissed off as I was, I would’ve gone after him. Not just because of the kids, but because Ian is the we
ak link in my iron chain. Sabrina used to laugh because no matter how much I “hated” him, if he needed help, I would still help—with an attitude, of course. And I could never let Ruby suffer—she’s too sweet to deserve that. I just wanted to calm myself down before having to face him.
We walk back to his house and as we get to his pool deck, he grabs my arm.
“I need to say something.” He clears his throat. “Whatever you think that was back there on my part, you’re probably wrong. You have a long history of thinking the worst of me—”
“I’m not—”
His hand covers my mouth. “Shut up for once and listen,” Ian commands. “I’ve let you go on thinking whatever you want because if that’s what you believe, nothing I say will change your mind. But hear this.” His hand drops. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I want things to be with us.”
I have no idea what he’s apologizing for. For what happened before? Walking out and breaking my eighteen-year-old heart? Being a jerk today?
“What exactly are you sorry for?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“Everything. I know you’re suffering the loss of your best friend, like I am, and we’re acting like idiots,” Ian admits. “I never should’ve said the things I did. Take your pick of the shit I’ve done and apply it.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I say, looking down at the ground. “We’ve both been acting—poorly. And I don’t hate you. I wish I hated you. It would make things easier, it would mean I don’t care.”
He looks to the sky and laughs. “She’d both love and hate this, you know?”
I don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. “She would. She’d say that what just happened was long overdue. She’d tell us we were being stupid, and then she’d tell me never to speak of it again—unlike any other time I’ve told her about a kiss,” I smile thinking of Sabrina. “Although, if she were alive, we never would’ve kissed.”
She had no problems telling me the reason I hated Ian so much was because I really loved him. The thing about love is that it’s irrational and stupid. I work with statistics and analyze hard data—I weigh probabilities and risks, and think in truths and facts.
Truth—Ian broke my heart.
Truth—Ian is the man I’ve never gotten over.
Fact—Ian is a selfish player who doesn’t give a shit about me.
