Page 59 of Passion and Privilege

“No arguments,” he insisted, a hint of sternness edging his voice now. “You’ve done more than enough for others, Catherine. You deserve this.”

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes as I looked down at the listing once more, finally allowing myself to hope.

“Thank you,” I said softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand across the table. “This is amazing.”

“I can’t wait to see what you do with it. It’s going to be a work of art.”

I forced a smile. “I hope so.”

Gloriana Manor was my dream home but it wasn’t mine. It would never be mine. I couldn’t even think about going to the house without wanting to crawl into a hole. It was all because of the man that owned the damn place. He ruined it for me. He didn’t just own the house I loved. He owned my heart.

After dinner, I cleaned up while my dad retired to his chair. It wasn’t long before he passed out. I went downstairs to the shop to dig into the treasures I picked up for Gloriana Manor.

I appreciated the quiet shop. It was what I needed after such a shitty day. I sorted through the antique fixtures imagining them installed at Gloriana Manor. They were going to be perfect in his house. I loved that they were from the time period.

Suddenly, the quiet was shattered by the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up. It was way after hours. I got up and peeked out the window. A man stepped out of the car. When I recognized Scott, a knot tightened in my stomach. He saw me in the window, ruining my chances of hiding and pretending I wasn’t there.

“Shit,” I muttered.

He knocked on the door. I opened it, dreading whatever it was he had to say. “Scott.”

“Catie,” he drawled, the familiar nickname grating on my nerves. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. About us.”

My eyes narrowed. “There is no us. I don’t know why you drove all the way out here.”

“You can’t just dismiss everything we had, Catie. Seeing you at the wedding made me realize what a mistake I made. You know you love me. I saw the look on your face when you saw me. I felt the same way. Everyone there saw it. When you have a love like ours, you can’t hide it. I know you don’t love that man you brought along. I’m sorry you had to see me marry another woman, but I’ll leave her for you.”

“Scott, I don’t love you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, meeting his pleading eyes with a forceful hardness. “But you’re wrong. What we had is over. You made sure of that.”

His face crumpled, as though I’d physically wounded him. “Catie.”

“Don’t.” I stepped back to close the door between us. But he stopped it with his hand. He pushed it open wider and walked in.

“We can start again, Catie,” he insisted. “I made a mistake. I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize what I had until it was gone.”

“You had a whole other relationship with another woman for over a year while we were together, Scott. You didn’t love me.”

“We were going through a rough patch,” he tried to argue, but I shook my head, cutting him off before he could continue.

“No, Scott. A rough patch is an argument, a miscommunication, a misunderstanding. A rough patch is not you sleeping with another woman for over a year behind my back. That’s not a rough patch. That’s betrayal.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “And I’ll regret it every day for the rest of my life.”

“That’s your burden to bear,” I told him coldly. “Not mine.”

He opened his mouth and I just knew he was going to start rambling on about loving me. It was all bullshit. This was the same crap he pulled when we were together.

“That’s enough,” I snapped, my voice cold. “You have a wife waiting for you at home, Scott. You should go to her.”

His eyes flashed with something akin to anger, but I didn’t flinch. This was the man who thought he could play with my heart and then just waltz back into my life as if he hadn’t broken it into a million pieces.

“But, Catie.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

I interrupted him one last time. “No, Scott. This isn’t about us anymore. This is about a commitment you made to another woman. You can’t just decide you’re tired of her and come running back to me. I’m not going to be the other woman. I’m better than that. And for the love of all things holy, please stop calling me Catie. I hated it then and I especially hate it now.”