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“Don’t.” I step backward, away from his touch. It’s ridiculous, but I feel disloyal to Henry. I’m so fucking in love with you, he told me. Oh, I’ve got myself into such a mess.
Cam and I study each other for a long moment. Seven years is a long time to spend with one person, and I know his face almost as well as my own. He’s a handsome man, and I’ve always loved his thick dark-blond hair, his Roman nose, and his sensual mouth. Do I still love him, though? Or has he killed all the feelings I had for him?
“Have I lost you?” he asks softly, pain in his eyes.
My eyes prick with tears, but I fight not to let them fall. “I don’t know.”
“So there’s still hope?”
“I don’t know. I’m angry, Cam. I know you have problems. And I’m sorry for what happened to you. But you seem to resent me for it all, and I can’t deal with that.”
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunches his shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, we’re all sorry, but they’re just words. It doesn’t make it right.”
“I know.”
“Actions are what matter. This isn’t what I want out of a relationship.”
I just want to be…
Worshiped?
Maybe a tiny bit.
You should be.
I want to be wanted. To be desired. Just once, for it to be about me.
It should always be about you.
“I want to feel as if I’m the most important thing in my partner’s life,” I say desperately. “I know maybe that sounds selfish and egotistical, but I’m tired of being the last thing on your To Do list.”
“That’s fair.” He moves a little closer. “Let me try and put it right.”
I frown. We’ve argued a lot in the past, but this is the first time he’s ever accepted that he needs to change. That he’s realized I might actually walk away.
“Don’t throw away seven years,” he says. “We’ve worked hard to get where we are.”
He’s right. I shouldn’t throw away seven years with him for Henry. Two and a half thousand days versus one night? The math doesn’t work.
But the reality is that Henry made me feel wanted and valued last night, more than Cam has done in all the time we’ve been together.
“I’ve taken you for granted,” Cam says. “I’ve taken what we have for granted. I won’t do it again. Just let me try to put it right.”
I bite my bottom lip. “I don’t know. I’ve got to get to work.” I walk past him into the living room.
He follows me out. “Just tell me you’ll come home tonight,” he says. “Please.”
I pick up my purse and keys and head for the door.
“Please,” he says again. “I’ll cook dinner. I’d like to talk. Just… come home.”
I hesitate with my hand on the door handle. I’ve invested seven years in this man, and I don’t want to admit that it was all a waste of time. Maybe he can change, now he knows I’m not prepared to continue being his metaphorical punchbag.
Is this what I want? Right now, I can’t think clearly.
“All right,” I say, because I can’t think how else to answer. I live here. Where else would I go?
