Page 266 of Darling Venom
“I’m sensing a pattern here. Prove me wrong. Take me somewhere, Tate. Right now. Anywhere that isn’t cloaked in darkness.”
“You’re pushing for too much,” he warned.
Was I?
The menu dropped. Slipped from my hand and collided with the floor.
I felt stupid. Like a lamb running toward a slaughterhouse. I gave Tate all I could, reaching further even when it drained me.
The more I replayed his words, the more pissed I got.
Tate Marchetti would never admit he loved me. Despite everything we’d been through, he would never come around. Never promise me a future. Never give me the unconditional love my parents shared.
So many nevers.
I let him walk all over me, and he’d left a deep set of footprints.
Well, he could go fuck himself.
I was done.
Trying to salvage us would be like rearranging deck chairs while the Titanic sank. I deserved better than this.
“It’s dinner, not a marriage proposal and June wedding,” I spat out, bumping his shoulder as I tore past him.
We both went rigid at the contact.
I scowled when I heard his exhale, spinning to face him. Slowly, so slowly, Tate turned to me. He managed to look put together. Cold and unflappable. It occurred to me that he might genuinely believe I was overreacting.
Asshole.
He stepped forward.
I matched his stride back.
He stilled. “If you want a marriage proposal and a June wedding, that’s fine. But it’s not something that’ll happen between us, and the faster you sober up, the quicker you understand I’m just a coffee stain in your autobiography, Charlie. Not a chapter. Certainly not the hero. I can’t take you out. Can’t be seen with you. Cannot love you the way you deserve to be loved.” He shook his head, rubbing the nape of his neck. “You grew up with two parents who loved you and a sister who would give her life for yours. I didn’t. I have never been good at giving and receiving love.”
“That’s a cop-out. An excuse.” I threw my hands up. “You haven’t even tried.”
“My mom and I barely talk, Terry is as reliable as spoiled milk, and Kel hated me from the start. The Marchetti men aren’t made for healthy relationships. The second we lose control, we spiral. This is the closest I’ll ever get, Charlotte.”
Charlotte.
We were both panting, standing on opposite ends of the kitchen. Half a dozen worn mahogany planks and an ocean of history separated us. Neither of us dared to cross the unyielding tides and frothing whitecaps.
“Fine.” I crossed my arms. “Just so we’re clear, I’m saying this for Kellan. I can’t stop you from ignoring your brother’s book or his voicemail, but I can guilt you over it.” I glared at Tate with nearly nine years of pent-up anger. “It is a privilege to have parting gifts from someone you love. For there to be something to latch onto each time you miss him. Read Darling Venom, Tate. Read it even if it feels like your soul is ripping in two. At the end of the day, it is part of your story.”
At the door, I stared at Tate one final time. His hands curled into fists by his sides. A knee jerked forward before it straightened again. As if he wanted to come to me but couldn’t bring himself to.
He reminded me of a swan. So graceful above water, but beneath the surface, he was paddling like hell to stay afloat.
He will only love me in the dark.
He will never love me in daylight.
“Don’t go, Charlie.”
It was, perhaps, the most vulnerable I’d ever seen him. But it was selfish, and cruel, and not enough. I deserved to receive the love I gave him.
