Moments of Disarray Read online

“Are you here to ask me to run away with you?” Anne asked in a flat, brittle voice. She was nowhere near close enough for him to touch her, but with the look on her face, even a stupidass prick like Alex Kennedy wouldn’t have dared.

  “Jamie asked me to the concert.” His words were thick, unwieldy, his clumsy tongue making them sound combative when he didn’t mean to be.

  Anne crossed her arms, a defensive posture. Protecting her heart. Alex wanted to put a hand over his own to push away his own pain.

  “I didn’t know he didn’t tell you I’d be there,” Alex said.

  “Why are you here?” Anne asked.

  Words came out, but like a dumbass, they weren’t what he really wanted to say. “I thought it would be fun.”

  He might as well have slapped her in the face, the way she flinched. Anne closed her eyes, turning away. Alex had never felt so small.

  “You are so selfish,” she whispered. Then again, louder. “Selfish.”

  He wanted to protest, but she was right.

  “You knew how I feel about you, and you show up to a fucking concert? Like nothing happened? Like you didn’t fucking break my heart into a million pieces, and what, you just think you can come along and put your hands all over me and make me want you again?”

  “Anne…”

  But she wasn’t having any of it.

  “I’ve tried to hate you, and there are times when I almost make it, Alex. I almost hate you. And then I am reminded that I love you, and everything hurts all over again, and I want to hate you but all I can do is hate myself for ever thinking that maybe you had one shred of feeling for me.” She held up a hand to stop him from speaking, although all he’d managed was a noise from the depths of his throat. “But obviously, you think nothing of me. You care nothing for me. If you did, if you had the tiniest crumb of love for me, you would never have done this. You would never have been so simply, casually selfish. But that’s what I guess I should expect from you, isn’t it? It’s all you’ve ever been. It’s all you will ever be.”

  Alex reached for her then, or maybe Anne moved toward him, maybe to hit him, maybe because she wanted this, too, but she was in his arms. She kissed him like she wanted to punch him in the face with her lips. He pulled away bruised and stinging, tasting blood and her tears. It didn’t matter if Anne couldn’t bring herself to hate him. He hated himself enough for both of them.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t ever be enough, but he said it because it was the only thing he could say. “I’m sorry, Anne, I’m really sorry.”

  She let him hold her. She didn’t relax against him at first. It was like hugging a board or a rod of iron. But she pressed her face to the side of his neck after a minute, and her arms went around him.

  She whispered in his ear, “I hate you.”

  That glorious, tragic summer, they’d spent hours in and out of bed, getting each other off, but right then all Alex could think about was the times when she’d fallen asleep next to him. When he’d listened to the sound of her breathing soften and slow and the weight of her relax. He’d been happy next to Anne. Who doesn’t want to be happy?

  “I’m sorry. If I could take it all back—”

  “No. Don’t you fucking dare take any of it back.” Anne glared. Angry. Sad. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful it ended him. Always and ever his but never belonging to him, his Anne. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

  In the silence that grew between them, all he could think of was how much he wanted to kiss her again. He didn’t. Perhaps for the first time, he was man enough not to take what he wanted and say fuck the consequences. She studied him, and Alex had no idea what she was thinking. He guessed he never had.

  “Are you here to ask me to run away with you, Alex?” Anne asked again.

  He could have said yes, and meant it, at least in that moment. But instead, he gave her the truth that would last a lot longer than a minute. “No.”

  She nodded and stepped away from him, though she let their fingers link and linger. “Thanks for not lying.”

  “Would you have said yes?”

  Anne laughed. “Oh, Alex.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  Her lip curled. She dropped his hand. “Yeah? Well, you don’t get a different one. You don’t get to come back to me and touch me and ask me questions like that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You said that already.” She shook her head. Her eyes were bright, but she wasn’t crying. “You know, even two or three months ago, I would’ve said yes. But now…”

  “Not now?”

  “Not now.”

  Alex sat on the edge of the bed. It was late. He’d been drunk but now exhaustion overwhelmed him. And he did love her, more than he’d ever known he could love another person.

  “I’m sorry, Anne. I really am. For everything. I won’t take it back,” he said hastily, before she could interrupt. “But fuck, I am so fucking sorry that I hurt you.”

  He’d never apologized to anyone before that. Not in that way, not meaning it. If getting on his knees for her would’ve made a difference, believe it, he’d have been there with his face on the grotty hotel carpet. But all he did was sit on the edge of the bed and look at her, hoping she would forgive him even though he didn’t deserve it.

  “I love you, Alex. But I love my husband, too. And you’re his best friend, and I know you love him, and he loves you, and all of this is a huge fucking disastrous mess, but…” She drew in a long, shaky breath. “But when you love someone, you want them to be happy, and I want you to be happy. I want James to be happy. I want to be happy.”

  Anne drew in another breath and looked him in the eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

  For a crazy, terrifying, amazing few seconds, he thought the kid was his. It had been six months since he’d seen her. If she was six months along, she was hiding it really well.

  “I love you, Alex, but I’m married to James. We’re going to have a baby. I want you to be happy, but I don’t want you to ever again touch me the way you did tonight.” She paused. “How does that make you feel?”

  “Like shit,” he answered honestly.

  “Good. I hope it breaks you. I hope the thought of never touching me again makes you want to die,” Anne said.

  It did. She kissed him, then. Softer than the first time. They got into bed together, all their clothes still on, and she fit herself against him. Spooning. He breathed her in and felt her fall asleep next to him. He tried hard to stay awake so he could keep as much of her as he could, but he didn’t make it.

  When he woke up, she was gone.

  Chapter 16

  Back to Philly. It wasn’t home, but it was the last place Alex had landed, and at least it was a place to stay until he figured his shit out. The Hershey gig was still up for grabs. Alex could stay with Patrick and his husband Teddy in Harrisburg, that had been the offer. Alex wasn’t sure he wanted to take the guy up on it — it felt as though there might be some expectations going along with what on the surface seemed to be a generous offer. Still, he appreciated the leads on the work. He might not need the money, but he needed the distraction.

  When he closed his eyes, he could still feel and smell and taste Anne Kinney, but she had made it clear there would never be anything more between them, and somehow, that had started to make it easier for him to…well. Not to get over her. He didn’t think his love for Anne was ever going to be something he could get “over.” But he could move beyond it, leave it behind, move forward. Yeah. He could do that.

  He had to do that.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Kennedy.” The front desk clerk, a perky blonde with perfect brows and a Marilyn Monroe beauty mark smiled at him. “I have you checking out the day after tomorrow, is that correct?”

  Alex returned her smile, but kept it dialed back. He couldn’t tell if she was flirting with him or not, and that was a disturbing realization, that he’d lost some of his flirt-meter. “Not sure yet.”

  She