“What?” she croaked.
He exhaled in a huff. “Talking through a barricade.”
He heard a thump against the door behind him. It sounded
like her throwing her head back.
“Stephanie…I love you. I can’t explain it. I can’t quantify
why, so don’t bother asking. I wish to God it weren’t true, but it is.”
Her voice cracked as she spoke. “But you were with that
girl from the video.”
He felt nauseated at the mention of it. “It was once. I wish it
had never happened. The whole thing was ridiculous. I was
drunk and lonely. I can’t change that it happened.”
Steph said nothing, and he found himself curious. He fought
with himself about it for a moment, but found he couldn’t con-
tain the question. “Was there anyone else? I mean, besides
Christopher.”
The thought of Christopher in her bed touching her made
him want to wretch.
“I was with Pace. Once. After Cheyenne showed me…the
video.” He buried his head in his hands. Pace Turner. That stung.
He’d always been threatened by this one name from her past,
mostly due to her calculated choice not to rave about him like she always did Kevin. “Phillip, it’s none of my business who you were with. You moved on. I’ve moved on. I’m with Christopher
now. We both just need to…keep moving on.”
“Nothing you’ve said changes how I feel about you. Not
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even a little. I wish to God it did, to be blunt. If I could turn it off, believe me I would have a long time ago. I can’t. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved. You’re the only person I’ve ever let inside my armor. I have absolutely no bloody defense against
you.”
He heard her sniffling. “Stop. Just stop.”
“Why? Because you love me, too and fighting it hurts?”
“Please—I just need a normal life.”
“You’ve never had a normal life, Steph.” He closed his
eyes, knowing she was pushing him away hard and knowing he
was fighting a losing battle.
“I can’t, baby.” She hadn’t called him that since the cottage,
and her doing so now felt as if she’d sliced him with surgical
steal. “I can’t deal with the constant fighting. I don’t want the paparazzi trailing me in the dairy aisle. I’m tired of psychos cornering me in public restrooms and mauling me because you
shaved your beard. And they do this when we are not together. ”
His heart seemed to dissolve and trickle to the floor. He
heard her crying through the door, and it was the most awful
sound he’d ever experienced. He turned and placed his palm
against the door. He inhaled twice, wanting to be sure to steady his voice and his resolve.
“Alright, love. I’m so sorry for everything. The last thing I
want is to cause you any more pain.”
Her breath hitched loudly, and he swore he could feel her
trembling through the thin door. When she spoke, her voice
sounded woeful, but committed. “I just want to stop hurting.”
He flinched at her words and ran his hands through his hair.
“If you want me to go, I will.”
Silence. That was all the answer he needed. She was done.
It was over.
It took him a minute to gather his strength. Finally, he
pushed himself up to standing. “Alright, Stephanie. I’m going.”
He squared his shoulders and took three steps toward the exit
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
when he heard the bathroom door open. He whirled in surprise.
Steph stood in the doorway, her chest heaving and eyes rimmed
red. She rushed to him and buried her face in his chest.
Phillip froze, his emotions colliding inside him like bumper
cars. Steph was the most maddening person he’d ever met, and
part of him wanted to shake her like a rag doll. The other wanted to peel off her robe and tie her spread eagle to the bed. He knew he was morally obligated to split the difference, so he cradled her against him, feeling her tears spill onto his bare chest. The minty scent of her damp hair drew his lips down to the top of her head.
“Phillip…please.” She looked up, her raw eyes devastating
him. Her voice cracked, and she seemed to choke out the words.
“Stay a little longer.”
He nodded without hesitation. She reached out, took his
hand and led him to the bed. Climbing under the blankets, she
beckoned him to do the same. He followed her onto the bed,
coaching himself not to become aroused. He’d often imagined
ending up between the sheets again with her, but this was far
from the flavor he’d pictured. There was a sense of finality, of pomp and circumstance. He took a deep breath as he settled in
next to her. This was the last time he’d ever touch her, and he
wanted to remember every moment of it, to commit every inch
of her to memory. The smell of peppermint, her velvety skin, her soft, warm body alongside his.
He placed his arm around her and she cuddled into him, and
in moments she was shaking with sobs and grasping him as if her
life depended on it. All this powerful emotion from Stephanie
Brier? His mind reeled, and his chest felt weighty, making it take extra effort to breathe. Why now? Why couldn’t they have been
so honest and naked with their feelings before? It wasn’t fair. It made him despondent and more than a little angry. He wanted to
hit someone, to break something, to take her away from every-
one. But his hands were tied, and she’d laced the knots. As al-
ways with Stephanie, he had no choice but to simply ride the
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wave.
He felt her leg slide up and over his as she curled in close.
He wrapped both arms around her tightly and kissed her fore-
head. “Shhh…, love. Please don’t cry.”
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Steph knew that she was dreaming the moment she spied
the little gold ponytail poking out from between the slats of the rocking chair. She realized she was in the cottage, but it was not Phillip’s restored version she dreamt of. This one hadn’t been
restored, so the windows were partially boarded, and the interior had reverted to its previous dilapidated state. All of the furniture was draped in white sheets except the
