on September 12th 2017
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I’d never fallen harder for anyone than I did for Graham Prescott. The British hottie was like no other guy I’d ever met. And the attraction between us was mutual and red-hot.
I would have done and said almost anything to be with him. So I’d told him one harmless, little lie…
But it hadn’t been.
Harmless or little.
That lie nearly destroyed his life.
Seeing him again after four years stirs up feelings I have no right to feel. So I tell myself the only thing I want from him is his forgiveness. But first I have to earn his trust—something easier said than done. Especially when he makes it clear there's only one thing he wants from me.
To stay the hell out of his life.
I muster up more courage. “Please, I just want a couple minutes of your time and then I’ll leave. Promise.”
Turning, he puts more distance between us and grasps the stool on the bar by its rungs, flips it so it’s right side up and sets it on the floor. “Your promises mean nothing. Now, I going to give you ten seconds to leave.” The most hurtful part of his dismissal is his refusal to look at me, the words tossed callously over his shoulder as he resumes his work.
After what I put him through, I can’t blame him for the way he’s acting. I deserve this. But he deserves and is owed what I have to say to him. “I tried to get in touch with you after—after everything happened.”
He goes motionless, then slowly turns to me. His glare could melt stone. “You can’t even say it, can you? What you did. You can’t even say the damn words. Is that how you were able to sleep at night whilst I was locked up in that cage?”
Stricken, I furiously shake my head, turning my ponytail into a whip that nearly comes close to taking my eye out. “No. That’s not it at all. I hate what I did to you.”
“You didn’t once think about anyone but yourself,” he continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “You were so used to wiggling your arse and jiggling your tits to get whatever you wanted. Well, congratulations, it worked. You really pulled the wool over my eyes. I can’t believe I actually fell for your whole act.”
Act? What? “No, no, I wasn’t pretending. I honestly lo-cared about you.” I pray he didn’t catch my stumble. He probably doesn’t believe I knew a thing about love back then despite the fact I’d told him I loved him.
“Not enough to tell me the truth.”
My throat constricts. I hate that nothing I can say will dispute that. Nothing. More guilt piles onto the mountain’s worth I’ve acquired over the years.
He wearily shakes his head and stares at me. “You don’t get it, do you? What you did to my life.”
If I ever thought I couldn’t hurt any more, that my sense of guilt could not possibly be greater, Graham just proved me wrong.
“I know there’s nothing I can say—”
“No there’s not. Now get out,” he bites out, his jaw tight and his eyes frigid.
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