Читать книгу Modern Romance October 2015 Books 5-8 - Дженнифер Хейворд - Страница 11
ОглавлениеDIANA TOOK THE glass of water her husband handed to her, closing her shaky fingers tight around the tumbler so he wouldn’t see how nervous she was. The tension that had been screaming through her ever since she’d entered Coburn’s beautifully decorated bachelor pad just a couple of blocks from the party was threatening to annihilate her composure.
She walked out onto the glazed concrete terrace while Coburn found a bottle of wine. The large open space with its comfortable lounge furniture scattered throughout was easily as big as the square footage of his trendy penthouse apartment on the top floor of the Chelsea low-rise—casual elegance that reflected her husband’s free-spirited need to be outdoors as much as possible.
Moving to the edge of the terrace that overlooked the tree-lined street, elegant with its neat little brick buildings and wrought iron fences, she rested her forearms on the railing. The hip neighborhood fit her husband’s persona to a T—notable, relaxed while still possessing enough individuality that he wouldn’t feel stifled as he had in their impossibly expensive, old-money East Side co-op.
A party was in full swing on the rooftop terrace of the building opposite, the loud dance music carrying on the air to where she stood. She set the glass down on the ledge before the water sloshed over the side. Why had she let her husband railroad her into coming here? Hadn’t they said all they needed to say in that final blowout that had put any of the ones before it to shame? Hadn’t she walked out on him because that night it had become crystal clear they weren’t going to make it together? That what they’d had had died and all they were doing was torturing each other?
She closed her eyes. She could still feel the force of her husband’s anger blanketing her even now. He had walked in from a party just as she had returned home from a shift at the hospital, the blood staining her wrists she’d missed in her final scrub a testament to her exhaustion. Coburn had been out for a fight from the minute he’d tossed his jacket on a chair and she’d known it, known she should just retreat into the shower and let him cool off. But his furious tirade had been off and running by then. People were starting to talk about her continued absence at social functions, he’d told her. Rumors were circulating about the state of their marriage. Questioning whether they would last... I’ve had enough of it, Di. Enough of this half-life with you.
She’d somehow found the energy to fight back because none of what he was saying was fair. Just because her husband enjoyed giving his older brother fits by taking off for a last-minute bicycle race in the French Riviera didn’t mean she had the same lack of loyalty to her job. People’s lives depended on her. She didn’t get to choose when and how long she was on duty. But Coburn in his stubborn arrogance had stated there were other doctors in the city of Manhattan, and he needed her by his side. Which had devolved into him suggesting she was using her work to avoid him and their issues. Which might have had some truth to it. But she had been too mad, too hurt to rein in her arsenal of similar complaints about his irresponsible behavior. Where had he been the night of the Taylor holiday party when she’d needed him by her side? Partying in Cannes with friends...
They’d traded barbs until she literally couldn’t stand on two feet anymore, then she’d showered and spent the night in the spare bedroom. The next day she’d moved into her parents’ guest room until she could find an apartment of her own. Coburn had been too angry to come after her. Maybe all there was to be said had been said.
Her father had gleefully offered an “I told you so” and beat Coburn’s shortcomings into her head until she was sufficiently brainwashed she knew she would never go back. But in the spirit of her newfound brutally honest outlook on life, as painful as it might be, she knew her father couldn’t be blamed for her and Coburn’s split. They had needed no assistance wrecking the good that they’d had.
The fact that Coburn had been with other women months after they’d parted had been the final nail in the coffin. The part of her that had held out hope they might work things out had died then.
The only mystery was why neither of them had filed the divorce papers sooner. It had been she, after signing her contract to work abroad, who had started the proceedings.
A chorus of excited giggles floated across the air to her as a group of girls horsed around with two attractive males. You aren’t fun anymore. Coburn’s words echoed through her head from that last night. What happened to you?
She thought about it. Had she ever been fun? Being a resident was not meant to be a joyride. It had been the most grueling five years of her life, meant to separate the weak from the strong. Why couldn’t her husband have accepted the early years were going to be like that? That it would change.
He joined her on the terrace then, as if she’d conjured him up to ask just that question. But of course she hadn’t. Not now when they were about to make their relationship history.
She eyed the bottle of champagne in his hands. “What are we celebrating?”
His sensuous mouth curved in a humorless smile. “How about our incredibly civilized divorce?”
Her mouth twisted. “Because the lawyers hashed out every clause for us.”
“Your decision.” His electric blue eyes lanced through her. “I was willing to sit down and act like two reasonable human beings for an hour. You for some reason were not. I’m very curious as to why that might be.”
She hadn’t let herself wonder that. Perhaps because she didn’t want to know the answer.
She watched the play of muscles in his forearms as he worked the cork out of the bottle. Exposed by his rolled-up sleeves, they were one of her favorite parts of him. Lean and muscular, he was all sinewy power without an excess centimeter of flesh on him. Potently strong enough to brace himself with as he flipped her from one sexual position to the next...
The cork flew into the air with a decisive pop. It jerked her back to reality. She couldn’t be thinking things like that. Thoughts like that had always gotten her into trouble when it came to Coburn. Because they inevitably led to sex and their erotic, spectacular love life that had become a crutch for their utterly dismal relationship skills.
Coburn filled two glasses and handed one to her, his gaze resting on her heated cheeks. “Disconcerting, isn’t it, probing at the real reasons why we do the things we do? Maybe you were scared that one hour in a boardroom would end up the way it always does with us... You would call me a selfish son of a bitch and I would make you eat your words, one orgasm at a time.”
The heat in her cheeks darkened into a full-out fire. “Perhaps my choice was the wiser one, then?”
“Or the coward’s way out.”
Her chin lifted. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of self-realization. In not repeating the same mistakes we’ve made in the past...”
“If you call that part of our relationship a mistake, yes.” The glitter in his gaze made her shift her weight to the other foot. Damn but this had been a colossal mistake.
He lifted his glass, his gaze holding hers. “To self-realization, then. And the dissolution of our hasty, ill-thought-out vows.”
A throb dug itself deep into her flesh, somewhere in the region of her heart. To hear him sum up their union like that without acknowledging the intense highs only they had offered each other didn’t seem right. “To greater self-realization,” she echoed, lifting the glass to her lips.
“What?” he murmured after he’d taken a sip. “You don’t agree we were a hasty, ill-thought-out union?”
She turned her head to look at the revelers. “I think we were much more than that.”
A silence fell between them. She felt his eyes on her, coolly assessing. When she thought he might say something, she cut him off at the pass. “I’m happy for Harrison. He’ll make a fine president if he wins.”
“The country couldn’t do any better.”
“And Frankie. She’s very beautiful.” A cynical note entered her voice as she referenced her husband’s PA, who was married to his older brother. “How did you let that one get away? She is so your type, Coburn. Young and impressionable.”
“And about to give up her career for her and Harrison’s new addition to the family.” His mouth curled with a sardonic twist. “What a lucky man he is... He married a woman who doesn’t need to prove herself to the world.”
The dagger cut through her as cleanly as her own surgeon’s scalpel. “You never seemed to want babies, Coburn. If that was high on your list, you should have mentioned it when you were cataloging my potential as your wife. You knew with my residency it would be years.”
A frown furrowed his brow. “There was no cataloging. We married before we had any idea who the other one was.”
Her stomach knotted. “And you found me sorely lacking in any capacity other than the bedroom.”
His gaze narrowed. “You liked to think that was the reason. Because then you didn’t have to work at it at all. You could just run off like the spoiled little rich girl you were and cry to Daddy. There were no repercussions.”
No repercussions? She’d spent the past year trying to bury herself in her work because it was too painful to go home to an apartment that didn’t have Coburn in it. He really had no clue.
“You think I’m the only one who’s unknowable?” she offered quietly. “I could do an entire emotional autopsy on you, Coburn, and I would still never get to the bottom of you. You play like you’re so open and there, but none of it is the real you.”
His eyes glittered. “You have to give some to get some, Di.”
Right. Here they were at the same old discussion. A waste of time.
“Why didn’t you file for divorce? You were certainly anxious to move on and avail yourself of other female company.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t plan to marry again so there was so rush. And as for my sexual partners? My prerogative when you ended our marriage. You know I have a high level of need.”
A need that had apparently overwhelmed him within months of their marriage ending...
She lifted her gaze and watched the midnight blue sky streaked with a swath of purple swallow up a lone star. Her insides hurt, like the delicate, shaky aftermath of a horrible flu.
“How long will you be gone?”
Coburn was watching her with that all-seeing gaze of his. “Three months, maybe more. The need for surgeons is critical.”
“What happened to your dream of working with Moritz?”
“I couldn’t handle the politics.” Swiss surgeon Frank Moritz was one of the most revered pediatric surgeons in the world, a specialty she wanted to make her own, but as Diana had found out, he was also one of the biggest egos in the profession. She had impressed him enough to put herself in line for the fellowship he was offering, but she hadn’t been able to force herself to do the schmoozing being Moritz’s choice entailed. It went against every belief she had that talent should prevail.
He lifted a brow. “You knew that was going to be part of it.”
“I didn’t know it was going to color every aspect of it. The man is a megalomaniac.”
“So you’re just giving up your career?”
“No. I’m going to Africa to practice.”
He waved his glass at her. “You know what I mean. You will be out of the loop. You’ll have to start all over again.”
“So be it.” A wry smile curved her lips. “It’s done, Coburn. I’ve sold my apartment and my car. I need to find my way.”
He studied her as if she was a creature from a different species he’d come into contact with. And maybe she was. She wasn’t the same Diana who’d walked away from him, that was for sure. She’d done far too much soul-searching to be that.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit drastic to put yourself in the middle of a war-torn country to find yourself? If it’s me you’re trying to avoid, then move to another state. Move to another country, for God’s sake. Not a war zone.”
She straightened her shoulders, her lips flattening into a stubborn line. “This isn’t about you, Coburn. Things aren’t always about you, although you like to think they are. This is about me and my need to help other people with the skills I have.”
His gaze narrowed on her. “You forget you admitted to me earlier part of this is you thumbing your nose at me.”
Damn her loose mouth. She sunk her teeth into her lower lip. “That was a knee-jerk reaction to an old wound. Nothing you say or do affects me anymore.”
“Then, why do you avoid me? You’ve been systematically ensuring our paths don’t cross for the past year.” He lifted a brow. “How do I know this? Because every time I’m unable to make something, I hear afterward you were miraculously able to attend. That’s a lot of trouble to go to to avoid someone whose presence doesn’t affect you.”
She swallowed hard, studying the play of light over his achingly familiar face. She had been avoiding him, of course, but it wasn’t something she was ever going to admit.
“So I ask again,” he demanded roughly, “why show up tonight? What purpose did this serve?”
Standing this close to him, inhaling his spicy aftershave mixed with a fresh citrus lime that had always made her weak in the knees, she suffered the horrifying realization that maybe it was closure she had wanted. One more chance to see him before she signed those papers. One more chance to put this demon to rest before she put her life behind her for a future that was a complete unknown. To convince herself she was doing the right thing by walking away from him. Instead, all she could think about was his horrible, hurtful comment to Rory.
I’m not twenty-five anymore. An amazing body and a smart mouth don’t do it for me any longer.
Was that all she’d ever been to him?
She tilted her head back and looked up at him. “You didn’t mean what you said to Rory.”
His mouth compressed into a straight line. “Oh, but I did, Diana. I may still want you because you have an undeniably sweet body I could spend my life sinking myself into. But as for any emotion beyond that? History, sweetheart. You made sure of that.”
The hollow feeling that consumed her then was frightening in its intensity. She could not sign those papers tomorrow, could not step on that plane knowing that was what he thought of her. That she wasn’t any different from all of his other women. That what they had had meant nothing.
She moved closer until the tips of her breasts brushed against the fine material of his shirt and her hips were cradled in the wide breadth of his. His heat moved through her, reminding her just how good it felt to be held against him.
“What were those women to you?” she asked, tracing a finger over the groove at the side of his mouth that seemed to have grown deeper. “A salve for your embittered soul? A way to prove I meant so little to you?”
He captured her hand in his. “I just told you, Di, I’m over you. Don’t give yourself so much credit.”
But she could feel his arousal stirring to life against her. Feel the rigidness of his powerful body with every contact point it shared with hers. Sex had never just been about the physical between them—it had transcended that, branded them with a truth they couldn’t deny. And she wanted it. Now. Then she could walk away.
She ran her free hand up the hard muscles of his thigh until she found the essence of his virility. His rough intake of breath sent a surge of satisfaction through her.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “Maybe I came tonight for this. Maybe we should finish it like we started...”
Hot color stained his cheeks, the cords of his muscular neck standing out in stark definition. “I think that’s a bad idea.”
Her fingers traced the hard ridge of him along the zipper of his pants. His response was instantaneous, his flesh swelling beneath her touch. It set her blood on fire to prove she could still affect him like this.
He arched his hips to press himself into her hand. “This is just sex.”
She closed her fingers more firmly around him. “Whatever you say.”
“Diana.” His fingers captured her jaw, tilting her face up to his. “This means nothing. Know that if I take you now.”
But she saw the emotion raging in his eyes. Knew it from their navy blue color so dark now his pupils blended with their inky depths. He was lying.
She reached for his belt buckle. His big body tensed beneath her fingers and for a long excruciating moment, she thought he would reject her. Then he dropped his hands, his gaze sinking into hers.
“You want one more night, Di? I can do that.”
A wave of adrenaline rolled through her, so strong, so powerful she was incapable of resisting it. It was so wrong but so right to be with him like this, but the right was, oh, so much stronger. Her hands worked his belt out of the buckle and yanked it free. His zipper accommodated her downward movement with a sharp hiss that made her stomach clench. Then there was only his hard, hot flesh to rediscover. He was silk over iron power, thick and unforgiving, and he knew exactly how to use it.
His groan split the night air. “There is a party going on thirty feet away.”
She squeezed her fingers around his burgeoning flesh. “I thought you liked to walk on the wild side...”
“Not with people I pass on the street every day.”
But his protest was halfhearted. His back was to the railing, shielding him from the revelers. His body was tense, expectant beneath her fingers, his flesh responding to her touch, pulsing, growing under her caress until he lay erect against his abdomen.
If he didn’t touch her soon, she was going to scream.
A hand clamped over hers. His face when she looked up at him was full of such heated intent it stopped her heart in her chest. “You know I’m not a taker like that.”
She did. She knew what a thorough, giving, wildly erotic lover he was, and maybe that had been half the problem tonight. She wanted that—soul destroying or otherwise.
She dropped her hands to her sides as he peeled the straps of her dress from her shoulders and cupped her naked flesh. It felt so good to have his hands on her after so long, she let out a low moan and arched into him. He bent and closed his mouth over a taut peak and sucked hard, his sudden assault on her body thrilling. His lips and teeth were insistent, unrelenting, demanding a response from the very core of her. “You like that,” he muttered against her flesh. “You always liked that.”
She moaned something like a response. He worked the nipple between his fingers as he transferred his attention to the other, sucking and pulling at her until the ache in her abdomen was so acute she thought he might bring her to orgasm with this alone. Her hips moved restlessly against him, demanding more. He moved his palm to her buttock, cupped her and held her in place against his arousal. For a long moment, she was suspended in a starry corridor that promised heaven. Then he gave it to her, the rhythmic pull of his mouth on her nipple sending a sweet surge of pleasure through her limbs that pulled a cry from her lips.
This, this was why it had only ever been Coburn.
* * *
Coburn watched his wife come down from her orgasm, her delicate face flushed with pleasure. The fact that he could make her come with just his mouth and the right amount of friction satisfied him on a level he couldn’t even begin to understand. This was when his wife was his. When they were perfect together.
He ran his hands up the inside of her filmy party dress and found her thong. The thin side ripped easily, pulling away from her skin like the unwanted impediment it was. Diana’s eyes rounded.
“That’s right, wife,” he growled. “You have me in a particular kind of mood.”
She didn’t resist as he turned her around so her back was against the railing, her body shielding him from the partygoers. His mouth settled against the shell of her ear. “Spread your legs.”
She resisted for a moment at the authoritative tone behind the command. Then her muscles relaxed beneath his hands as he moved her thighs apart and found what he was looking for. Hot responsive silk that had the ability to make him forget every rational thought he’d ever had.
She went rigid beneath his touch but not to stop him. She threw her head back, exposing her irresistible long, slim neck, and reveled in it. He buried his lips in her floral scent and moved his fingers against her in a slow, languid caress.
“Oh, God.”
His wife had always been responsive, but this time he savored every sigh, every moan, every delicate whimper as he brushed his thumb against the nub at the center of her. Worked it slowly, deliberately until she was moving against his hand, his name a whispered plea that did something to his battered soul.
“You have always been mine. Always.”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. He knew the truth, knew the power they held over each other. It pushed him forward, goaded him on as he slid a finger inside her in a caress he knew she loved. Her eyes closed; her hips worked against his hand. Her breathing was fractured, hitched in the night air, her body trembling beneath his hands as she stood poised to shatter into another release. But he wasn’t going to give it to her that way.
He withdrew his fingers from her. Her eyes flew open. “There will be no audience,” he said roughly.
He slid his arms under her knees, picked her up and strode through the apartment to his bedroom. It was a big mistake to take her there, he knew. If he did, he would never get her out of his head. It was his bed, his space he’d created when she’d left him hollow and broken. To let her violate it again was surely unwise, but he wasn’t thinking with his head—he was thinking with another body part entirely.
The play of the moonlight through the skylight was all he needed to absorb his wife’s jaw-dropping beauty as he deposited her on the bed. She was everything he’d ever wanted, everything he could no longer let himself want. Not after this.
He stripped off his pants, shirt and tie and slid on a condom. Diana was staring at him as if he was a beast on the prowl, and he liked that. Liked when she was at his mercy. He straddled her, pinning her to the bed with his heavier weight. She looked brazen with her dress half-off and her eyes full of desire. He ran a hand from her throat to the heat between her legs, pushing her dress up to her waist. Her lips parted in an unspoken message. The urge to kiss her, to take possession of her sultry full mouth, was so strong it nearly consumed him. He swallowed it back, clamped his jaw down hard on the need. If he did that, this bedroom would never be his own.
“Coburn?” Diana lifted her hand to curve around his nape. Her dark eyes were confused, questioning. He closed his against the emotion he saw there because now it was too much for him. Now it threatened to singe him beyond repair. He allowed her fingers to bring his head down toward her parted lips, but at the last minute he turned his head and buried his mouth in her throat. She went rigid beneath him. He captured her nipple in his mouth to distract her, his hand moving down her stomach to ready her silken flesh for him. The stiffness left her on a low, reluctant moan.
That was when he took her with a powerful, driving thrust. She accommodated him easily. She had been built to take him. He had to close his eyes to hang on to the moment, to focus on the pleasure drawing the act out would bring both of them, or he would have been lost, she felt that exquisitely good. Like returning to heaven.
That last thought in particular drove him forward, a mixture of anger and need behind his powerful thrusts. He slid his palms under her hips to take it deeper, until she squeezed her eyes shut and he knew it was so good for her it was almost too much. He slowed it down then, gentled his movements despite the emotion raging in his blood. When she relaxed beneath him, he angled her hips with his palms and stroked to that place inside her that gave her the deepest, most satisfying release. Her body clenched around him, reaching for it.
“Please.”
“Look at me.”
She opened her eyes. They were glazed, drunk with the promise of ecstasy. He gripped her hips more firmly with his hands and moved inside her with deliberate, pleasure-inducing strokes designed to give her release. When she came, he saw the whole thing happen in her ebony eyes.
He waited until her breathing slowed, her eyes cleared and she was fully with him before he sought his release. He wanted her to remember every minute, every second of this when she was with someone else, when some other man claimed her beautiful body and he was relegated to a footnote in her life.
He wanted it to be so good he’d ruin her for anyone else. Wanted her to know the agony of wanting something you couldn’t have.
Her eyes fluttered open to stare into his. He wrapped one of her long, elegant legs around his waist and took her with deliberate, deep insistent strokes that dismantled any last bit of composure he saw on her beautiful face. When it became too good, too exquisite to take, he arched his back and let the release consume him. His brain faded to black. Nothing but the pleasure raging through him could touch him.
He lay there, supporting part of his weight on his palms until he recovered himself. Diana’s satiny limbs were wrapped around him, her scent filling his nostrils. Long moments later, when his breath had come back, he registered her stillness beneath him. Levering himself off her, he studied her stricken face. She had expected this to change everything as it always had. She had expected to crack his shell.
He rolled off her and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Fury sizzled through his blood as he stood up and stared down at her. “Was that a good enough performance for the memory book? Or should we do it again?”
Her face lost all its color. She sat up and pulled her dress down to cover her. “No,” she said slowly, “that was perfect.”
“Good.” He waved a hand at the shower. “I’m going to clean up. Feel free to join me.”
But she didn’t. He knew she wouldn’t. When he emerged from the shower ten minutes later, she was gone, just as she’d been gone the last time. He took one look at the bed, threw on some clothes and walked out into the dark, quiet night. If he’d thought it would feel good, this victory over her, it didn’t. It felt as if he’d just impaled himself on his own sword.
* * *
Diana wasn’t sure how she got to Beth’s house. Didn’t even know she was crying until she’d pulled her keys out on her friend’s doorstep and was fumbling while trying to get them into the lock, her gaze too blurred to see. Her palm pressed against the door as she jammed the key in harder. The door opened from the inside, sending her tumbling across the jamb.
“Sweetheart.” Beth caught her forearms and steadied her. “What’s wrong?”
The tears turned into a torrent, sliding down her cheeks unchecked. “I am s-so s-stupid.”
Beth pulled the door shut, retrieved her keys and guided her into the cozy little living room. “You saw him, I take it?”
She choked back a sob at that vast understatement of what had just happened. She had just had steamy, intensely uninhibited sex with her soon-to-be ex, who’d tossed her aside afterward as if she meant nothing to him.
Beth’s lips tightened. “I’m getting us some tea, then we talk.”
Diana kicked off her shoes, curled up on the sofa and grabbed the box of tissues sitting on the coffee table. Images from the night flew at her like jagged pieces of a puzzle that didn’t make any sense in her head. She hadn’t consciously gone to that party tonight to have that showdown with Coburn, but it was clear now that unconsciously she had. Her heart hadn’t mended since that night she’d walked out on him. She still wasn’t over him, and worse, she’d been holding out some hope he might still love her.
A sitcom Beth had been watching blared from the TV. She sat watching it with unseeing eyes. Had she been hoping Coburn would confess he felt the same way? That that was the real reason he hadn’t initiated a divorce?
She swallowed hard. What a stupid, blind woman she was. She had set herself up for that tonight. Set herself up for Coburn’s masterful demonstration of just how little he cared. Because after what he’d just done to her? Those flashes of emotion she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes must had been figments of her imagination. Evidence she’d used to justify the need to be in his arms again. Because being without him had been as if a part of her was missing and she couldn’t seem to get it back.
Was that a good enough performance for the memory book? Or should we do it again?
His brutal words ripped at her insides. Bile rose in her throat. She might have been sick if she’d had anything more than a couple of hors d’oeuvres in her stomach. She swallowed the nausea down, pushing it away. How had she let herself do that after a whole year of telling herself she couldn’t be anywhere near him? Where had the measured rationality she was known for in her work been when she needed it most?
Beth came back, handing her a steaming mug of her favorite peppermint tea. Her best friend since med school sat down on the other end of the sofa with her own mug of tea. “Tell me what happened.”
Diana pushed her disheveled hair out of her face and gave her nose one last swipe. “I saw him and I was so ready to be cool and composed, and then I just— I mean—” She let out a long sigh. “I’m still in love with him.”
Her friend grimaced. “And there’s a newsflash.”
She pressed her hands to her temples. “He gave this toast to Annabelle and Tony that ended up being all about us and, God, it was awful. Everyone was staring at us.”
Beth’s eyes rounded. “He did not.”
She nodded. “Then he insisted on going back to his apartment and talking.”
“What is there to talk about? You two are getting divorced tomorrow.”
“He was angry. He accused me of running away from our problems. He said I was a spoiled little rich girl who’d run back to Daddy when the going got tough.” She threw her friend a despairing look. “But honestly, how many more times could we argue about the same things? It was getting toxic.”
“You tried, Di.” Beth’s gaze softened. “I watched you try, I watched you suffer, but you are just two very different people with very different ideas of what you want out of life.”
And that was the crux of it. It was why she’d left. Her husband’s brutal summation of their marriage echoed in her ears, the matter-of-fact, cynical tone he’d uttered it in making her cringe all over again. “In his speech,” she said huskily, “he said that someone forgot to tell him that sometimes love isn’t enough. That you can love someone madly, blindly, but it still isn’t going to work if you can’t accept each other’s flaws and imperfections.”
Beth leaned forward and clasped her hands. “He’s right. Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes the passionate, intense affairs like you and he have had are the hardest to sustain. They just don’t lend themselves to ordinary life.”
A fresh wave of tears pooled at the back of her eyes. A part of her didn’t want to accept that that could be possible with her and Coburn. But the rational, self-preservative side of her said she must.
Beth squeezed her hands tighter. “I was in the room the night you and Coburn met. I remember what it was like watching you two... It was electric. But that kind of passion? It can blind you to reality.”
A reality she had to accept now. Coburn didn’t love her anymore and she had to move on. If it had been closure she’d been looking for as she walked away from everything she knew, tonight he’d given it to her. As brutal as it had been, Coburn had actually done her a favor.
“You’re right,” she said, grabbing another tissue and blowing her nose. Pushing her shoulders back, she gave her best friend a decisive look. “This was the eye-opener I needed to walk into that meeting tomorrow and do what I need to do.”
Maybe when she was thousands of miles away from Coburn she might somehow be able to banish the shame she’d felt tonight when he’d looked at her as if he’d just finished servicing another of his bimbos. Because if she didn’t, she might hate him forever.
