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“When?” He threw his arms out. “When you spent a year barely functioning from grief? The next three when you were building yourself and your family back up? When I loved you and couldn’t see myself without you? When, Daisy? In those four years after she died, when would have been a good time to leave you?”
My eyes narrowed on him. Sure, I’d been a mess for a long time after we’d lost Quinn, but not so long he couldn’t have let me down gently.
“A conversation, Andy. If you’d told me you’d changed your mind about marriage and kids, we could have ended things amicably. You denied me that chance by lying and lying and lying.” Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, but I refused to cry. I’d spent too much time perfecting my makeup before he’d gotten here. The inside of my mouth might’ve been chewed to hell, but on the outside, I was unaffected.
He sighed, his hands falling to his lap in heavy defeat. “I didn’t come here to argue or dredge up things we’ve gotten over.”
“I haven’t gotten over my sister’s death.”
His shoulders rolled forward. He was shrinking by the second, right in front of my eyes. “I know. I didn’t mean that.”
“Why’d you come here if not to dredge things up?”
“I need to tell you something before you hear it from someone else.”
It was incredible. To love someone for seven years then three months later, having them feel and look like a stranger. The eyes that had greeted me every morning weren’t the color I remembered. The voice that had whispered “goodnight” in my ear no longer sounded smooth and comforting. What had once been an easy companionship was now like falling into a prickle bush. I wanted out of this situation as quickly as possible.
“Tell me,” I said.
Andy’s face had gotten pale, and the breath he sucked in didn’t bring back any color.
“Last weekend, I proposed to Samantha, and she said yes. We’re engaged.”
It wasn’t pity I saw in Andy’s eyes, it was imploring. For what? For understanding? For me not to freak out and call him an asshole? He could implore all he wanted. I didn’t answer to him.
Rising to my feet, I marched to the door, yanking it open. “Get out, Andy.” Later, when I didn’t feel like I’d had acid sprayed on every one of my surfaces, I’d praise myself for keeping my shoulders and words steady.
Andy crossed the room, bracing his hand on the doorframe. “I know it’s fast. I know I said—”
“Get. Out,” I gritted through clenched teeth. “I want nothing to do with you. You’re a stranger to me.”
“Daisy,” he crooned. “I wish it could have been you. It was supposed to be.”
I met his foreign eyes. “I think you’ve proven it was never supposed to be me. Three months ago, you said you loved me and begged me to stay. Now, you’re marrying someone else. That says a whole fuck of a lot about what we meant. Get. Out.”
“I’ll always love you, you know,” he whispered. “I wish it could have—”
He reached for my hair, and I batted his hand away. “All that talk of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ was a complete lie, huh? I was always the problem for you.” I raised my chin. “Go away, Andy. I have somewhere to be.”
He chuffed, his face coming slightly closer to mine. “You know, the short hair is growing on me.” His knuckle grazed the side of my face before I could push him away. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I wish things were different.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “I wish you were swallowed by a black hole. We don’t always get what we want, now do we?”
He huffed a laugh, looking me over for a long beat. Patting the doorframe, he walked out. I slammed the door behind him and threw the lock in place before he could make it down one step.
Everyone looked dashing in a tux, but Miles took the top prize.
My eyes should have been glued to the bride. Or even the groom, whose stoicism had broken the moment she’d come into view, a few tears escaping before he could swipe them away. Those things were beautiful, but Miles had captured my attention.
He bounced on his toes as he watched his brother marry Elise. When Weston and Elise cried, he did right along with them, all while looking like Pierce Brosnan’s James Bond.
After the ceremony, he winked at me as he strode by me down the aisle, and Lily patted my hand.
“Keep him. He’s one of the good ones.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
Maybe I could. Not the way she meant, but the truth in her observation rang clearly. Miles was absolutely one of the good ones.
