“I am. But I’m not five months pregnant.”
A silence that felt distinctly uncomfortable to him swelled between them. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he said, “Something’s wrong.”
The fact that she didn’t immediately deny it confirmed his worst suspicions. She looked at the floor, then raised her gaze back to his. What he saw in her eyes-or rather what he didn’t see there-tightened the knot in his gut. He knew damn well what was coming.
“Brad…I…” She blew out a long breath. “I think you’re a great guy and I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, but I can’t do it anymore.”
His knotted stomach seemed to drop to the floor. “If this is because I asked you to spend Christmas with me-”
“No, it’s not that. Not really, although that forcibly reminded me that we want different things. I told you from the start I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, yet that seems to be the direction we were heading.”
“And would that really be so terrible?”
“I foolishly allowed myself to think maybe it wouldn’t. But yes, it would. At least for now. This fiasco with the order…it was totally my fault because I was focused on
Hurt-and dammit, anger-slapped him. “Gee, thanks.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that sounded bad.”
“I don’t think there’d be a way to make it sound good.”
She pressed her lips together, then shook her head. “No, I suppose not. The bottom line is that I don’t have the time or energy to devote to a relationship now. By doing so, I nearly caused irreparable harm to my business and at this point I can’t afford that.”
“Everyone makes mistakes, Toni.”
“Yes. And my first one was allowing a one-night stand to continue for more than one night.”
She couldn’t have cut him more effectively if she’d plunged a knife into his chest. But that wound also pushed his anger closer to the surface. Anger at himself for not being able just to walk away. And at her, for not giving them, him, a fair chance.
“You’re blaming me for this order screwup?”
“No. I’m blaming myself. For allowing myself to-”
“To what? Feel? Care? Get involved?”
She pressed her lips together then gave a tight nod. “Yes. I don’t want…this. Whatever it is that’s happened between us.”
“Then what, exactly,
“For my business to succeed. For the bank review to go well. Not to lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.”
“What about other than your business? What do you want for
His question clearly brought her up short. She blinked, hesitated, then frowned, and he wished like hell he knew what she was thinking. Finally, she said, “For right now I don’t
“You didn’t fail at being a firefighter, Toni. Firefighting failed you.”
“Maybe. But I still feel as if I have something to prove. To myself. That I can be successful on my own. And to my family, who, as I told you, in spite of their love for me, on some level wants me to fail here so I’ll come home to them and the family business. Which I refuse to do. Which means I can’t afford any more mistakes. Or distractions. Which means there can’t be any more me and you. It’s too much. Too fast. Too soon.”
He pulled in a slow breath, then said quietly, “You know, I wasn’t looking for this, either. But I’m willing to play the hand I was dealt here. I’m willing to make the time to find a way to make this work.”
“Which is where we differ, because for right now, I’m not willing. I just can’t.”
A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. “You mean you won’t.”
“All right, I won’t. I have too much at stake, too much riding on the success of my business. The bank review is only three months away. I need to keep my priorities straight. This mess…” she waved her hand to encompass the multitude of arrangements she was working on “…happened because I didn’t.”
“So you turn off your feelings, just like that,” he said, his voice tight. “Or are you prepared to look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t have any for me?”
Her already pale face went a shade whiter, and finally something flickered in her eyes. But instead of the warmth and caring he’d hoped to see, it was regret. “I…Of course I
He stood frozen in place. “But…?”
“But the timing isn’t right for me. I’m sorry, but I can’t be with you, with anyone, right now.”
“Not right now?” His anger and frustration came through in his clipped words. “Then when, Toni? When will it be convenient for you?”
“I-I don’t know. I need time-”
“How much time? Two weeks? A month? Three months? After the bank review? Or will you tack on a few more months after that?
Resentment flashed in her eyes. “You’re pressuring me.”
“Maybe you need to be pressured.”
“No, I don’t. As for a time frame, I simply don’t know. All I do know is that I’m not prepared to continue our…whatever you want to call it now. And naturally I don’t expect you to wait around until I figure out when I might be ready.”
Anger and hurt warred inside him. The determined look in her eyes made it clear there was no point in arguing further. “So that’s it. You don’t want us to see each other anymore.”
“It’s for the best.”
A humorless sound escaped him. Best for her, obviously. At least he hadn’t admitted the depth of his feelings to her. Hadn’t made that big an ass out of himself.
“I…I’m sorry, Brad. I hope you understand.”
“Don’t worry. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.” Throat tight, he nodded toward the counter. “Guess you’d better get back to work, and I need to get to the station. Merry Christmas, Toni.” Yeah. Merry damn Christmas.
Without waiting for a reply, he pulled open the door and quickly strode toward his pickup, feeling…gutted. How was it possible to feel so angry and so numb at the same time? And how long would it take to repair a broken heart?
He already knew the answer. It was going to take a damn long time.
ON CHRISTMAS MORNING, Toni woke up in her old room at her parents’ house and stared at the skeins of sunlight peeking through the curtains. The muted sounds of breakfast filtered up the stairs, the coffee grinder humming, her mother’s and grandmother’s voices. Probably they were arguing over whether to brew decaf or regular. Or whether the eggs should be scrambled or fried. She pictured her dad, sitting in his favorite chair, working a crossword puzzle, oblivious to the disagreement taking place no more than ten feet away from him.
With a sigh, she sat up on the edge of the mattress then pushed back the tangle of flattened curls clinging to her face. She didn’t need a mirror to know she looked like roadkill. Which was really only fitting as she felt like roadkill. Actually, she felt like the potholed, weather-scarred, oil-stained street underneath the squashed, rotting roadkill.
Setting her elbows on her knees, she rested her dully aching head in her hands and closed her eyes. And found herself fighting to hold back the tears that had threatened to spill over ever since Brad had walked out of Blooming Pails and her life yesterday morning. For there was no doubt he was gone from her life for good. The look on his face when she’d told him she didn’t expect him to wait around for her was branded on her brain. That combination of anger and hurt made it clear he had no intention of waiting around. Or of bothering with her again.
