Hopeless Vows (20 page)

“The camera crew just saw you maul me.” Lifting my head up, I notice relief relax his features.

“I mauled you? I seem to remember a certain pair of delicate hands trying to rip my shirt off,” he says smugly.

I throw a pillow at him that he easily catches. “You know what I mean. They recorded the whole thing. You should have seen their faces when you ran into the kitchen. It’s embarrassing.” I flop back into the pillows.

“Want me to kick their asses? Would that make you feel better?” There’s a hint of laughter in his voice. He’s obviously not embarrassed by this at all.

“Ugh!” My mini tantrum is muffled by the pillows, losing some of its affect. A second later, I feel the bed dip, letting me know he’s sat down next to me.

“What can I do to make it better?” Turning my head in his direction, I see the sincerity in his eyes. “Want me to tackle the camera guy and steal the tape? I’m bigger than he is. I could so take him. Just say the word.” A small smile pulls at my mouth, breaking some of the tension. “Ah, there’s that beautiful smile.” He reaches out to brush the hair away from my face. “It’ll be okay, Jillian, I promise. You were dressed, so no one will see anything risqué.”

“I know,” I say on a sigh. That makes me feel mildly better, but it’ll still be hard to look them in the eye.

“Now come eat with me before dinner gets cold.” He helps me up and we head out to the dining room.

After a delicious meal, we sit across from each other sipping on wine. “So . . . now that we’re on talking terms again, I guess it’s a good time to do our homework.”

We were told to start asking each other questions about our pasts. Even things we don’t necessarily want to discuss. I’ve been putting it off; the thought terrifying me. It was easy to do when we were fighting, but now that we’ve made up, I knew it was only a matter of time before Austin broached the topic.

Taking another sip from my glass, I say, “Okay, you want to go first?” I do my best to regulate my breathing. I don’t want to do this. The one thing I’ve avoided talking about with him in detail is my family. And I know it’s the one thing he wants to know more about.

“Why do you think all your other relationships failed?”

I breathe a sigh of relief. Okay, I can do this. This I can answer. “I have a hard time trusting people. I expect them to let me down until they finally do. I guess I set us up for failure before we even get started.”

“You do that with me sometimes.” His blunt response takes me back slightly.

“What do you mean?” I move around in my seat uncomfortably.

“You have walls built up around you and you’re reluctant to let them down.” He folds up the piece of paper with the question on it and throws it to the middle of the table.

“I’m sorry, but—”

“No,” he interrupts. “You don’t need to apologize or explain further. But you’re in luck because I’m a patient and determined man.” He ends his statement with a wink.

Wanting to get the focus off of me, I ask, “What about you? Why did none of your past relationships work?”

He stares straight into my eyes and says, “Because they weren’t you. I was looking for you my whole life and never knew it.” He doesn’t blink, his stare unwavering as he sears his declaration into my mind.

“Nice line.” He’s making me uncomfortable, putting me on edge and getting closer than I’d like.

“It’s not a line. I believe everything happens for a reason, and I believe my other relationships failed so they’d lead me to you.”

Fate. Is that what this is?

No, it’s karma being a bitch. He doesn’t know what I know. If he did, he wouldn’t be spilling this poetic bullshit about us being destined for each other.

“Your turn,” I say to switch gears.

“How come you never talk about your family or ask about mine? That’s usually normal things that are covered when you get to know someone, but you seem to avoid it like the damn plague.” I notice he’s not reading off of the cards and thinking up this one all on his own.

“Because they’re all dead!” I burst out. “What more is there to talk about?” My hands wave around before dropping to my lap again. What I said was harsh, but I’d rather he think I’m a complete and total bitch than know the truth.

“I think that’s your defense mechanism,” he says calmly, not reacting at all to my outburst.

“Are you the therapist now?” I spit out. I don’t want to go down this road and I have to shut this shit down now.

“No, but I know you, and you’re not that heartless. When you’re ready to talk about them, I’m here for you.” He picks up his wine and takes another sip.

I stare at him slack jawed and completely dumbfounded. Here I am acting like a raging bitch, and he’s as cool as a cucumber in the face of my insensitivity.

What would he do if I confessed right now? Would he be as calm? Would he still accept me?

No, he’d hate me. As much as I want to push him away, I don’t think I could live with that kind of reaction from him. Because as much as I tell myself I don’t care, I really do.

Shit, how am I going to make it through these last thirteen days?

MY INDEX FINGER
taps on the same key repeatedly as I stare absently at the decaying bouquet of roses on my desk. It’s fitting really. Each day, they wilt more and more, almost like a countdown to the end of Austin and I. I do nothing to revive them or prolong their life, knowing it’s a lost cause. Just like my time with Austin. The vibrancy of our future together is smothered, leaving only fond memories and thoughts of what if, what could have been if life didn’t hate me.

Reaching over, I grab the card he had delivered with the flowers on Monday—always Monday—and read it for the hundredth time.

Jillian,

With each day, my feelings for you grow. I’ve had many doubts in my life, but none about you. I believe with all my heart that we’re together for a reason. I hope you feel the same. See you after work.

XO,

Austin

Tomorrow is the big day. The day I walk away. I will have officially fulfilled my obligation to the show and have completed the eight-week experiment. My chest aches knowing the decision I must make. The more I think about it, the more my stomach twists in knots to the point where I feel physically sick. Every minute that ticks by is like another step toward a cliff where I step off on the final day and disappear into nothingness.

His bright smile and warm, brown eyes flash through my mind. I love the way he looks at me. It’s as if I’m the only woman—no, the only person—that exists and I always have his attention.

He makes me feel loved.

The words haven’t been uttered aloud, but I feel it in my bones and in the deepest part of my soul. The part that doesn’t want to acknowledge the truth. The part that desperately wants to bury this emotion behind a black wall hoping it dies. I always had doubts that I’d know when someone truly cared for me. My parents weren’t the best examples, and I never experienced it as an adult either. But with Austin, it’s there in his eyes. In his touch. In the way he kisses me. In the words he says.

God, I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this. I’ve been leading him on. Not intentionally, but I should have kept more distance between us. I shouldn’t have given him false hope and expectations, but I did. I told him he could fly and then clipped his wings. That probably makes me a more disgusting human being, but I’ve said it my whole life; I was born to be a shitty person. It’s in my DNA.

I tried, really I did. He’s just so damn charming and caring and he’s everything I could ever dream of for my husband. That’s what makes this so hard. It’ll hurt him, that much is sure. The thought alone is crippling, but this will be nothing compared to the hurt I’m saving him from down the road.

A single tear streams down my face. I quickly dash it away with the back of my hand, becoming angry instantly. I thought I’d laid all of this to rest. I’d come to terms with what happened and moved on. I ran as far away from that life as I could and never looked back. With Austin, all of it is thrown back in my face.

Fuck you, Mom and Dad. Fuck you. This is all your fault. I have my happily ever after waiting for me in my—our—apartment, and I have to give it all up because of you. How many times can you possibly ruin my fucking life?

Folding my arms over each other on top of my desk, I lay my head down and take in a deep breath before more tears escape. The part I dread the most tomorrow is the look on his face when I make my choice known.

Time creeps by pretty slowly when you’re wallowing in self-pity. After what feels like an eternity, I’m finally home, walking through the door and kicking off my heels. The relief is instant and momentary all at once as I catch sight of Austin waiting for me in the living room. His heart-stopping smile is in place, making it the most wonderful and worst thing to come home to. It hits me this is the last night I’ll come home and be greeted by him. The realization is a punch to the gut that causes an ache to start in my center and travel to my chest. Taking a slow, measured breath, I try to push tomorrow away and enjoy Austin’s company for one more night.

On the coffee table are some lit candles with a single red rose lying down between them. “Hey, gorgeous,” he says tenderly. He’s hesitant in his approach, almost like his inner clock is ticking too, telling him our time is almost up. Can he sense it? I hope so. It might make it easier to deal with. He’s usually sure about everything, but seeing him off balance tonight has me wanting to set his mind at ease, if only until tomorrow.

“Hey,” I say with a smile. The small gesture relaxes his body a little. “What’s all this?” I ask as I wave to the table.

“I just wanted us to enjoy our last evening with some quiet time.”

“Ah, yes, our last night together.” I pretend like the thought has slipped my mind, but it’s the only thing I’ve been focused on all day. I’m a mass of nerves and I wonder if the other couples going through this same experiment are feeling the same way. Are they happy and able to stay married? Do they hate each other? I’m sure none of them are experiencing the same dilemma I’m faced with.

“Is it?” What remained of his easy going nature has vanished, in its place nothing but absolute seriousness. I know what I should say. I should be honest and tell him where my head is at, but the words get stuck in my throat.