Page 65 of Suddenly Mine
“Were you actually happy?”
Now she turned, slowly, shaking her head in angry disbelief.
“Seriously?” she spat. “That’s your defence? That I wasn’t happy enough before you came along, so it’s fine that you lied to me?”
“No.” He held her gaze. “It’s not fine that I lied to you. I hate that I did and I wish that I could rewind our time together and tell you who I am from the first moment we met. I can’t do that. But don’t lie to yourself, Merry. You say you were happy . . . but you didn’t seem it.”
She opened her mouth, ready to throw more words at him like sharp stabby knives in his stupid puppy-dog eyes, but none came.
“You are many thing, Merry,” he went on. “Brilliant. Capable. Fierce. Hot as hell. But happy? You looked like someone who’d built a life that didn’t quite fit and convinced herself to shrink into it.”
Her eyes burned but she felt her shoulders slump at the weight of his words. “You don’t get to say that.”
“I know,” he said. “Believe me, I know. The only reason I could see it in you is because I’ve been lying to myself too. And the only time I’ve ever felt real was when I was with you.”
Merry blinked rapidly. Her breath caught and, for one awful second, she thought she might cry again. But she held back her tears with a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “You should’ve just told me the truth.”
“I know,” he said again. “But I just wanted to make you happy and my fake self seemed to do that quite well. And then I was in too deep and didn’t want to burst the bubble by telling the truth.”
Her first instinct was pure, white-hot fury. How dare he stand there and poke holes in her reality after everything he’d done? How dare he decide that lying had been better for her? But the anger got tangled up in something else. Something that hurt more than thinking about Christian’s lies.
She thought of her roommate, Clare, always leaving the groceries and the bills to her, always crying over some boy or having loud sex with another while Merry soothed and sorted and swept the pieces up behind her. She thought of the smiling, grateful shoppers who clung to her service and how she gave and gave until she had nothing left at the end of each shift. She thought of the carefully worded emails to her parents, the money transfers, the bright emojis masking exhaustion.
Was Christian right? Had she been happy or was she just really good at pretending?
Christian stepped closer, tentatively, as though he was approaching a wild cat. “You deserve better than a life you have to survive.”
She stared at him, torn in two, because he had lied. But he’d also seen her in a way no one else ever had. Merry shivered as the wind curled around them, tugging at the edges of her uniform, but it was nothing compared to the storm of emotion rolling in her chest.
Christian’s voice broke through it.
“When we spent time together, when you smiled at me, laughed at my jokes, I know it wasn’t because of my name,” he said. “Or the fact that my father owns this place. It wasmeyou liked.” He took a step closer. “And for the first time in my life, that mattered more than anything. I loved the fact you had no idea who I was and still wanted to spend time with me.”
Merry swallowed hard.
“The date at Bryant Park,” he said softly, eyes locked on hers. “That wasn’t fake. Not for a second. I loved every minute of that night. The lights, the music, even the damn rain. God, Merry, I loved touching you, kissing you.” Another step closer. “I still do.”
Merry’s heart twisted. She didn’t know if she wanted to run or scream or fall into his arms. Instead, she stood perfectly still, fighting the war inside herself.
Christian shifted, rubbing his hands together, his breath misting as the cold air whirled in through the open door and the first flakes of snow started to fall beyond.
“Look, it’s freezing. We don’t have to stay here,” he said gently. “Come with me to my hotel. It’s just around the corner. We can warm up and talk properly with no interruptions.”
Merry stared at him, knowing that the old her would’ve said no and curled up behind a wall of pride to stew. But she was so tired of pretending and of always carrying everything alone.
“No Ninja Dragon Lady?” Merry said, with a tired smile.
Christian glanced behind him at the mugs on the table that Mrs Cradley had left for them. “No Ninja Dragon Lady. She surprised me tonight, though. I don’t think she’s all bad.”
As they made their way across the roof and back into the warmth of the tenth floor, Merry paused. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a faint glow spilling beneath the velvet curtains of the grotto.
She slowed down, frowning.
“Everything okay?” Christian asked, glancing back.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Yeah, all good.”
She looked again, but the grotto was empty. It had probably just been someone locking up or a reflection from the night lighting. Still, as they walked on, she found herself glancing back one last time, wondering what she’d seen.