Page 46 of Broken As Puck

She was a stunning, amazing woman. She deserved better than that. If she ever gave me a second chance, I would be better.

“I did say something. I swear to you, I did. You only overheard part of the exchange. I told him that I loved you and that you’re beautiful and I never wanted to hear him speak that way about you again.”

She laughed bitterly. “Is that right? Because you never defended me before. I know that wasn’t the first time one of your friends made comments. So, how long did it take you to reply? Was it hours? Days? Was it after you found out I’d heard what he said and finally decided that I deserved more from the people in my life?”

“No, baby.” The words tore from me, anguished.

She recoiled, her eyes wide. “Don’t call me that.”

I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out. The truth is, I told him right then and there. Yes, I paused for a few seconds. I know that hurt you, especially because it probably brought back memories of your family ignoring your bullies and letting people talk badly about you, and I’m unbelievably sorry for it. I was so shocked that, at first, I didn’t know what to say. I admit that I had the briefest moment where I was worried that standing up for you might mean I’d lose my friends, and I’m ashamed of that.”

I didn’t have many friends growing up because I’d been too busy working and training to spare any time for them, but I should have realized that Cory and his crowd were never going to fill that void the way I wanted them to.

“I promise you, I told him within a minute of him spouting that rude bullshit that you were the only one for me. I hesitated because I was shocked and scared, and I’ll always regret what that hesitation cost me.”

She was quiet for a long moment, staring at me as if she thought that eventually her eyes would be able to peel back the layers of my soul and read the truth—whatever it might be. “I suppose I have no choice but to believe you. I obviously didn’t hang around long enough to find out what was said next.”

My hand twitched toward her, and I gripped my coffee cup more firmly. “I can’t prove it to you. I’ll never be able to, and that kills me.”

She shrugged. “A lot of people live with uncertainty. It doesn’t really matter. We’re working through this, right? For the sake of our professional relationship—that’s what’s important.”

My heart lodged in my throat, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to bring myself to say what I really wanted to. Yet I knew if I didn’t, it would be just another regret to add to the list.

“I loved you,” I told her. “I planned to marry you one day. More than anything, I want the chance to start over. To try again. But I understand if you aren’t interested in that.”

I waited with bated breath for her response, cataloguing every minor shift in her expression, hoping I’d see even an inkling that she might be open to the idea.

A slight furrow formed between her eyebrows. Her mouth inched down at one corner. My heart fell.

She sat back and crossed her legs. “I appreciate the apology,” she began slowly, as if testing her words to determine whether they were the ones she really wanted to use. “But I don’t want anything other than a professional relationship between us. It wasn’t only my heart that was injured—my self-esteem was too. I need to protect myself, because I can’t trust others to do it.”

My stomach twisted painfully even though her reply wasn’t a surprise. I drew in a slow breath, because otherwise, I feared I’d forget how to breathe entirely.

“I’m so sorry.” I could apologize a thousand times over and it would never be enough. “For hurting you. For denting your confidence. That never should have happened.”

“Well, it did.” She took a drink of her coffee and glanced away. “For far too long, I was self-conscious of my body, wondering if men were interested in me despite how I looked because my personality was enough for them to lower the bar, or if they only wanted a hookup and anyone would do.”

I straightened, fury coursing through me that she would ever think such a thing. “Men should consider themselves fucking lucky to breathe the same air as you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not how I felt. And I’m not one to point fingers, but what happened between us didn’t help that.”

I slammed my mouth shut, my jaw cranking so tight that I feared it might crack. “I hate that I could affect you like that. You’re so much more than me. Kinder, smarter, braver. I’m not worthy of making you think less of yourself. I’m not worth being so upset over.”

Her forehead crinkled. “But you…”

When she didn’t go on, I set the takeout cup down and reached for her hand, damn the consequences. Her palm was soft and warm against mine, and she stiffened but didn’t immediately shake me off.

“You’re the most beautiful, incredible woman I’ve ever known. You have absolutely no reason to doubt yourself, and I’m sorry that my actions ever caused you to do so.”

She looked down at our joined hands and then slowly, carefully, extricated hers. “I think you might actually mean that.”

“I do.” I’d say it over and over again if I had to.

“But I meant what I said. We need to keep things professional. We’re not friends, and even though we’ve opened the door to all this baggage from the past, I don’t want to revisit that time any more than we already have. I… I can’t date you, Matt. There’s just no way.”

I lowered my eyes and swallowed. My tongue felt thick and clumsy in my mouth, and I had no idea what to say. She’d set a boundary and I had to respect that. I’d told her where I stood, admitted that I wanted more, but she didn’t and that had to be okay. I wouldn’t be one of those exes who made life miserable for their former partner just because they didn’t know how to let go.

I’d do my best to give her what she wanted, no matter how much it might hurt. I’d be polite and helpful and stop pushing for more. It would be difficult, but I could do it.