Chapter 95

I snap eyes to him. “Yeah—worse, I’m sure.” I hope he isn’t taking this where I think he will; he better not be attempting to blame the mess in London on me.

He seems to be thinking it over before speaking—another improvement on his part. “You’re right. You know you are right.”

“I’m glad I kept it to myself, especially before I knew for sure.”

“I’m glad you told me before anyone else.” His eyes are on mine.

“I told Kim.” I feel slightly guilty that he had assumed he was the first person that I told, but he wasn’t there for me.

Hardin’s brows knit together. “What do you mean, you told Kim? When?”

“I told her it was a possibility a while ago.”

“So Kim knew and I didn’t?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“What about Landon? Does Landon know, too? Karen? Vance?”

“Why would Vance know?” I snap at him. He’s back to being ridiculous.

“Kimberly probably told him. Did you tell Landon, too?”

“No, Hardin. Only Kimberly. I had to tell someone, and I couldn’t depend on you enough to tell you.”

“Ouch.” His tone is harsh and his frown overwhelming.

“It’s true,” I quietly say. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true. You seem to forget that you didn’t want anything to do with me until my father died.”

Chapter fifty-eight

HARDIN

Didn’t want anything to do with her? I’ve loved this girl with every ounce of me for so long. I hate that she feels this way, that she has forgotten how deep my love for her is and has reduced it to this one fuckup of mine. Not that I can blame her. It is my fault that she feels this way. “I always wanted you; you know that. I just couldn’t stop trying to ruin the only good thing in my life, and I’m sorry for that. I know it’s fucked-up that it took me so long, and I hate that it took your dad dying to get my ass in shape, but I’m here now—and I love you more than ever, and I don’t care if we can’t have babies.” Desperate, not liking the look in her eyes, I impulsively add, “Marry me.”

She glares at me. “Hardin, you can’t just throw that around like that—stop saying that!” Her arms cover her chest as if she’s protecting herself from my words.

“Fine, I’ll buy you a ring firs—”

“Hardin,” she warns, lips pressed together in a tight line.

“Fine.” I roll my eyes at her, and I think she wants to slap me. “I am so in love with you,” I promise, and reach for her.

“Yeah, now you are.” She backs away, challenging me.

“I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Sure you have,” Tessa mumbles. How can she be so fucking cute and obnoxious at the same time?

“I loved you even when I was being a dumb-ass in London.”

“You didn’t show it, and it doesn’t matter how much you say it if you don’t remotely show it or make me feel the truth in your words.”

“I know, I was high out of my mind.” I pick at the annoying fraying fabric on my cast. How many more weeks until this thing is off?

“You let her wear your shirt after you had sex with her.” Tessa looks away from me, focusing her eyes on the wall behind me.

What? “What are you talking about?” I gently press my thumb under her chin to force her to look at me.

“That girl, Mark’s sister. Janine, I think I heard someone say?”

I gape. “You think I fucked her? I told you I didn’t. I didn’t touch anyone in London.”

“You say that, and yet you practically waved the condom in front of my face.”

“I didn’t fuck her, Tessa. Look at me.” I try to convince her, but she turns away again. “I know what it looked like . . .”

“It looked like she was wearing your shirt.”

I hate the way Janine looked in my shirt, but she simply wouldn’t shut her damn mouth until I gave it to her.

“I know she was, but I didn’t fuck her. Are you that deluded that you think I would do that?” My heart is racing at the idea that I’ve let her walk around for the last few weeks with this bullshit in her head. I should have realized our previous conversation didn’t end it.

“She was all over you, Hardin—in front of me!”

“She kissed me and tried to blow me, but that’s it.”

Tessa makes a small noise and closes her eyes.

“I didn’t even get hard for her, only for you,” I say to try and explain better, but she shakes her head and holds her hand up for me to stop.

“Stop talking about her, I’ll get sick.” I know she means it.

“I got sick, too. I threw up all over the place after she touched me.”

“You what?” Tessa stares at me.

“I literally vomited, as in I had to run to the bathroom because I got sick from her touching me. I couldn’t bear it.”

“You did?” I wonder if I should be worried about the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as I tell her about my vomit experience.

“Yes, I did.” I smile at her, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t look so happy about it,” I say, but if it shifts her mood, I’m all for it.

“Good. I hope you were really sick.” Her smile is full now.

We are the most fucked-up couple.

Fucked-up but perfect, that is.

“I was!” I say, seizing the moment. “So fucking sick. I’m sorry that you thought that this whole time. No wonder you were pissed at me.” It sort of makes sense now; then again, she’s always pissed at me lately. “Now that you know I didn’t fuck around on you”—I raise a sarcastic brow—“will you take me back and let me make an honest woman out of you?”