‘I want to tell you,’ she said quietly, hesitantly. ‘I want to—to talk about my past.’
He didn’t think he wanted to hear it. Chase adjusted her more securely against him, knowing she needed that. She needed him, God help them both.
‘OK,’ he said.
Millie glanced down, ran her hand down the length of his bare chest. Even now he reacted, felt the shower of sparks her touch created in him. He wanted to dismiss it as mere chemistry, but he knew he couldn’t.
‘My husband died two years ago,’ Millie said, and everything, everything in him shrivelled.
Damn.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly. He’d suspected some heartbreak; of course he had. How could he not? Sadness seeped from her pores. But a husband? A widow? He thought of all his light, deprecating jokes and inwardly winced.
Outwardly he ran his hand up and down her back, strokes meant to soothe and comfort even as his mind seethed.
‘What happened?’ he asked eventually, because for all her wanting to tell him everything she’d lapsed into silence.
‘He died in a car accident. On the Cross Bronx expressway. A collision with an eighteen-wheeler. They think the driver fell asleep at the wheel.’
Chase swallowed. He couldn’t think of anything more to say, so he just held her.
‘I didn’t tell you because for the last two years it’s completely defined me. Everyone I know looks at me like I’m a walking tragedy.’ Which she was. ‘No one knows what to say to me, so they either ignore me or apologise. I hate it.’
He identified all too much with everything she said, albeit for a different reason. But he knew there was more she wasn’t telling him.
‘And then I feel guilty for thinking that way. Like I want to be happy, even when I know I never can be.’
‘Everyone wants to be happy,’ Chase said. ‘You can be happy again, Millie.’ But not with him. Now, he knew, was not the time to remind her they only had one week together. Four more days after this.
‘I liked the fact that you didn’t know,’ she said quietly. ‘That you treated me normally. I almost—I almost felt normal.’
‘And then you felt guilty for feeling normal,’ Chase supplied. What a depressing cycle.
‘Yes, I suppose,’ Millie said slowly. ‘But more than that.’ She stopped again and he knew he would have to prompt her. Coax the heartbreaking story with all its drama and tragedy out of her bit by bit.
But he didn’t think he had the energy. That probably made him an incredibly shallow bastard, but he couldn’t help it. He’d had his own share of depressing drama, tragedy and pain. He wasn’t sure he could take Millie’s.
And he knew she couldn’t take his.
‘We had a good marriage,’ she finally said. ‘I loved him.’ And what was he supposed to say to that? She bowed her head, her hair brushing his bare chest. ‘And I know no marriage, no relationship is perfect, but I look back and I see all the mistakes I made. We both made,’ she allowed, her voice a throaty whisper, and Chase just let her talk. He didn’t have much to offer her. He hadn’t had too many serious relationships, and he’d never come close to marriage.
Yet.
Why the hell had he thought that?
‘We grew apart,’ Millie said after a moment. ‘Because...because of different things. And the day he died I was sharp with him. I don’t even remember what we argued about, isn’t that stupid? But I didn’t— I didn’t kiss them—him—goodbye. I don’t think I even said goodbye. And Charlotte...’ Her voice caught and Chase pulled her closer. He still didn’t say anything. He had nothing to offer her in this moment, and he knew it. Maybe she did too.
After a ragged moment Millie slipped from his arms. He let her go, watched from the bed as she scooped up her clothes and headed towards the bathroom. ‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she said, her back to him so he could see all the delicate knobs of her spine, the slender dip of her waist and curve of her hip.
‘OK,’ Chase said, and as she closed the bathroom door he felt a shaming wave of relief.
* * *
Millie turned the knobs on the shower and rested her head on the cool tile. Her heart had stopped its thunderous racing and for a second she wondered if it still beat at all. After feeling so painfully, gloriously alive, she now felt dead inside. Numb and lifeless with disappointment.
So Chase didn’t really want intense. Not the kind of intense she’d been offering as she’d lain in his arms and tried to tell him her story. Even as he put his arms around her, went through the motions, she’d felt the coldness of his emotional withdrawal. She’d violated the terms of their agreement—the terms she had made—and he didn’t like it. Didn’t want to go that deep or far.
Stupid, stupid her.
Drawing a shaky breath, she stepped into the shower, let the water stream over her and wash away the traces of her tears. She’d cried after the accident, of course. She’d done the counselling and the support groups and even journalled. But she’d never cried like that. She’d never given so much, so freely, and stupidly it made her want more. It made her want to tell him everything, about her marriage, the accident, Charlotte.
But within thirty seconds of speaking she’d realised Chase didn’t want to know. He wasn’t the only one who could read people.
Another shuddering breath and she reached for the shampoo. At least now she understood the terms: no talking about the past. Chase was all about the physical intimacy, having her melt in his arms, but the emotional stuff? Not so much. He’d liked pushing her but he didn’t like the results. Well, she got that now. And it was just as well, because even if for a few shattering seconds she’d wanted to tell him everything, had maybe even thought she loved him, she understood now that wasn’t where this was going. And when rationality had returned she’d known she didn’t even want to go there. She’d loved and lost once. She wasn’t going to attempt it again, and especially not with a man who was only in it for a week.
By the time she’d showered and dressed, Millie felt more herself. She’d found that icy control, and she was glad. She stepped out of the bathroom, saw the late-afternoon sun slant across the empty bed. They’d skipped lunch and, despite the emotional tornado she’d been sucked into all afternoon, she was hungry. Her stomach growled.
She wandered out to the kitchen and saw Chase talking on his mobile. She waited, far enough way so she couldn’t eavesdrop, and a few seconds later he disconnected the call and gave her a quick, breezy smile.
‘Good shower?’
‘Fine. I’m starving, though.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. I just made reservations at Straw Hat on Anguilla.’
‘Anguilla? How far away is that?’
‘An hour in my boat.’
‘OK.’ Maybe escaping the island would be a good thing.
The door bell rang, and Millie watched as Chase went to answer it. She felt like everything was on fast forward, plans put in motion before she could even think.
‘What’s that?’ she asked when he came back with several shopping bags with the resort’s swirly logo on the side.
‘A couple of dresses. I thought you might like something new.’
She gazed at him levelly. ‘I have a whole suitcase of new clothes.’
Chase just shrugged. ‘I don’t think your wardrobe runs to fun and flirty.’
‘Maybe I don’t want fun and flirty.’
He