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“You’re right. I lied,” he said again, his tone hard and angry. “You need to go.”
She swallowed, because he was acting so different. So…so…cold. “Why did you do it? Why beg me to let you in, and then—?”
“We both know you never really let me in.” He still held her wrist, his thumb pressed over her pulse. He probably felt it leap when he stepped closer, his chest touching hers. He lowered his face to hers, their noses touching. “We were just having sex, right? Some good old fashioned fun. Nothing serious. That’s what you said.”
She flinched, because out of all the things she could have said, that was probably the worst. It was the biggest lie she’d ever told. “Mark…”
“Don’t,” he hissed. “Don’t go back on what you said.”
She stiffened, not because of what he was saying, but because of the way he smelled. She hadn’t noticed it till now, but when he was this close, his breath reeked of whiskey and cigars. He smelled like…like… Her father.
His favorite drink was cheap whiskey, too.
She stepped back. “You’re drunk.”
“Like I said.” He let go of her and covered his face. “Not a good time.”
Hugging herself, she took another step back, forcing her face to remain calm. He wasn’t her father, and would never be her father, but the last thing she wanted to do was have this conversation with the drunk version of Mark. “I’m going to go—”
“I’m not usually a liar, you know,” he said, just as calmly as she. He was good at putting on a front, too, apparently. “I honestly thought…shit.”
“I—” She cut herself off. Big conversation. Big topic. High emotions. Drunk boyfriend…or ex-boyfriend, she guessed. “It doesn’t matter what you thought.”
She opened the door, but he placed his hand on it above her head, holding it shut, effectively trapping her in the room with him. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” she asked without turning around.
“What you said.” He swallowed hard. “Was it just sex?”
“I…” She faced him, placing her back flat against the cool door, pain radiating from her chest throughout her whole body. “Does it really matter? It’s over. You’re the one who ended it.”
He stared down at her, nostrils flaring, and pushed off the door, freeing her. He muttered something under his breath, so soft she didn’t make it out.
Heart pounding, she said, “What did you say?”
“I never should have chased you,” he said, more loudly this time.
In other words, he regretted her. She tried not to let that hurt, but it was like trying not to let running full-force into a brick wall hurt you. It was inevitable. She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all.
“You didn’t want to be caught. You never wanted to be caught by me.”
She needed to go. Needed to stop having this conversation with a drunk man. But— “Who says I didn’t want to be caught? I let you catch me, didn’t I?”
“And then you pushed me away. Repeatedly.”
She shook her head. “Not last night. Last night, I let you in…and then you broke up with me. On the street. While I was working.”
He winced and held his hand out. “Daisy…”
“No.” She shook her head. “Don’t.”
“I was going to ask you to take a step back from your job,” he said flatly. “Maybe not now. Maybe not next year. Maybe not until we were married and you were pregnant with our child, or maybe not until the second one. But eventually, I would have asked.”
She swallowed. “I won’t do it.”
“I know. And you shouldn’t.” He laughed. Not a real laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “That’s why I had to end it. I can’t…we can’t…I can’t be with a cop. Not even for you.”
Her heart twisted, and she blinked away tears. “I know.”