That described him perfectly. Closed down. Shut down. Battered and broken with guilt. “I’m not closed down,” he muttered, denying the truth he knew inside himself.
She reached for his hand, and laid hers on top of it. “We don’t have to bullshit, Jack. I’m not some blushing twenty-two year old who read in the paper that you were New York’s most eligible bachelor and wants to nab you. I have a business, a career, a respectable profession, a brother and sister-in-law I love dearly, and very close friends. I’m fine. But when you’ve been in love with someone who didn’t love you, it really makes you protect your heart from anyone and everyone,” she said, and those words stung him more than she could ever know. “We had a great time last night and I’m having a lovely time tonight. But this can’t be anything. From what I can gather your heart is still with someone else.”
He swallowed thickly. He was so tempted to tell her the truth that only Casey knew. “Why would you assume that?”
“I could be wrong, but your fiancée died a little more than a year ago. And you go see a therapist who specializes in intimacy. I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to figure out that’s why your sister sent you to see me. To help you move on, right?”
“Yes,” he said, and he clamped his lips shut so he wouldn’t reveal the truth out loud. That he didn’t need to move on in the way everyone thought. That he wasn’t some poor widower. Yeah, he had commitment issues a mile long, but not because of what everyone thought about how things ended with Aubrey. Not because she died. But because of what he’d said before. Because of how it was all his fault.
He winced as the memories assaulted him.
High school sweethearts in Denver, Colorado where he grew up, Jack Sullivan and Aubrey Sheen were one of those couples. The couple everyone thought would be together forever. He was the school’s star shortstop; she was captain of the ski team and an Olympic hopeful. It was first love. It was true love. It was as real as it could possibly be. She was bright and beautiful, ambitious and determined. They laughed together; they had fun together; they were going to be together always. But then they drifted apart, attending colleges with many miles between them, and the inevitable split set in. There were plenty of tears shed, but plenty unshed too. She was focused on her Olympic dreams; he was focused on school, and then on his time in the service.
Years later, when he returned from Germany and started Joy Delivered, they found themselves near each other again. With Aubrey living and working in New York, they reunited.
At first, it felt natural to be back with her. They fit. They made sense. On paper, they should have worked, and so he proposed. But at some point after that, one thing became painfully clear to him. He was living in the past with her. He wasn’t the same person he had been when he was younger. She wasn’t either. But their love had been borne of that time in their lives—young love. He’d mistaken that for forever love.
He hadn’t realized that when he proposed. When he’d gotten down on one knee, he was sure it would be forever. But once the planning started, the sense that something was amiss kept tugging at him. Finally, he woke up one morning to the stark realization that he was about to walk down the aisle and say I do to a woman he cared deeply for. To a woman he admired. To a friend.
He was no longer in love with her. Marrying her would have been a mistake. Maybe it made him a jerk; maybe it made him an asshole. He was willing to be the punching bag for all those terms of un-endearment. Better to break it off before the wedding than after. Better to cause the hurt before they took those steps.
They went away for the weekend in Breckenridge. He knew Aubrey—she’d need to be near mountains to deal with his bombshell. Snow and slopes were her companions for the good and bad in her life. She processed everything through her sport.
He could still remember the look on her face when he’d told her he didn’t want to marry her. Like he’d sliced her open with a knife. Her eyes had spilled tears. Her lips had quivered, and she’d given new meaning to the word devastated. Because of him. Then she wiped off her stream of tears, stood up and said what he’d expected her to say. “I need to go hit the mountains.”
Twenty minutes later, Ski Patrol dragged her body down the blue square trail that she’d always owned and conquered, that she’d mastered at age six. This time, she’d slammed into a tree. Dead on impact.
That’s how he became the widower a week before the wedding that he’d just called off, and no one knew the truth but his sister.
He wanted to tell all that to Michelle. Hell, if he hadn’t slept with her last night, he might even have started to tell her his truth today. But there was no way he was going to unload on her right now. Not after she’d just revealed something painful about her past. That she’d felt unloved. That she’d been unwanted.
If she knew he was the kind of guy who’d called off a wedding, she’d run from him right now. He was everything she’d want to stay far away from. The guy who didn’t love back. She was right to try to nip this in the bud.
But hell, he had no intention of letting a woman like her slip through his fingers. His greatest skill in business had been solving problems. He could always find new ways around the hurdles, and spot the routes others hadn’t seen. The path to her was crystal clear to him. Because he wanted Michelle.
Badly. So very badly.
He might not be able to give her love, but he could show her what it would be like to be wanted.
He also didn’t intend to start whatever this was with a lie. So he cast the truth in a new light as he answered her question. “You’re right. I haven’t moved on entirely, but not for the reasons you think. And since you’re not my shrink, I’d rather not get into it. But I have another idea. Something that I think could meet both our needs. Want to hear my proposal?”
Her eyes blazed with curiosity.
* * *
She scoffed and laughed at the same time. “Thirty days? You want me to sign a contract or something?”
“Not unless it’s one that requires you to use a safe word and call me sir, but somehow I doubt you’re into dom/sub stuff,” he said, his cool blue eyes twinkling, as if he’d just come up with the most brilliant plan ever.
Admittedly, it had some appeal.
“You read me right on that one, Jack,” she said, and took another bite of her pasta, shaking her head in surprise. The food was good; she wasn’t going to miss a chance to enjoy this delicious dish simply because he’d proposed something so ridiculous.