be flippant.”
Sylvie didn’t feel flippant, just incredibly weary. And sad. Sad that their once bright and shiny relationship had become tarnished with guilt and recriminations.
She straightened her shoulders and drew in a steadying breath. Hadn’t she always told herself she couldn’t go wrong telling the truth? But if she told him about the conversation she’d overheard, he might be angry with his father.
No, she didn’t have to tell Andrew the whole truth, just enough so her leaving would make sense.
“You were like no man I’d ever known.”
“You haven’t known all that many.”
Sylvie flushed, realizing they were talking apples and oranges. “I wasn’t referring to intimately.”
Andrew already knew she’d been a neophyte in the sexual arena when she met him. One time with a seventeen-year-old boy didn’t make a girl an accomplished lover. In fact, when Andrew and she made love, it had felt like her first time.
“I was referring to the kind of men I’d grown up around.” Her lips curved in a slight smile as she remembered the first time she’d seen him. “You dazzled me.”
He didn’t return the smile, only continued to stare intently at her face.
She licked her lips. The words that she’d hoped would smoothly flow seemed to have hit a logjam. “I—I’d never known anyone like you.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
“I’d worked hard to get through high school and then through the culinary institute. I’d always been proud of my success. But when I was around you... I felt...less.”
Andrew had admired her work, but she knew he’d thought it was just a hobby. That misconception wasn’t his fault. She’d kept just how much it mattered from him. Looking back, she wasn’t sure why she’d never told him that her art—her baking—was what had sustained her during all the lonely years she’d been on her own.
His gaze sharpened. “You think I didn’t appreciate all you’d achieved?”
“Not you.” Dumping this into his lap would serve no purpose. “Forget it.”
“My family?” he pressed.
She thought of his mother and father. Though they’d been less than thrilled about their son becoming engaged to a woman outside their social circle—and putting that ring on her finger within months of meeting her—they’d been cordial. Besides, she firmly believed nobody could make you feel inferior without your permission.
“It wasn’t anything anyone did or said.” She placed her open palm against her heart. “It was me. This is such a cliché, but I felt like a square peg about to be pounded into a round hole.”
She wasn’t sure what she expected him to say. Perhaps nod and say he understood? Or maybe agree that indeed they were so different it amazed him their relationship had lasted as long as it had?
Instead Andrew steepled his fingers beneath his chin and gazed at her like a scientist must study a bug under a microscope. “You never said a word about those feelings, at least not to me.”
The censure in the calmly spoken words stung like a hard slap.
“Being around your family and friends that night made me realize that you belonged with someone more like, well, like Audrey.” Sylvie closed her eyes for a second, struggling against the grief welling up inside her. Though she hadn’t known Audrey Cabot long, she’d liked her and considered her a friend.
“I never thought of Audrey in that way. She was a friend, nothing more.”
It wasn’t only her grief simmering just below the surface. The pain in Andrew’s eyes told her just how much Audrey’s recent death from cancer had impacted him.
“You can’t honestly believe there was anything between us,” he added.
“No, I know there wasn’t.” Sylvie had believed him when he’d denied any romantic interest in Audrey, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think they would have made a great couple. “I just mentioned her because Audrey always seemed more—”
She paused, searching for the right word.
He arched an eyebrow. “My type?”
“Exactly.” She nodded, pleased he was finally getting the gist of what she was saying. “While I admit that you and I have amazing chemistry when it comes to sex, I think some of our decisions to get so close so fast was based on that chemistry. It wasn’t as if you really knew me.”
But really, whose fault was that? She was the one who’d held back, who hadn’t let him get to know her fully.
Andrew’s eyebrows pulled together in a puzzled frown. He rubbed his chin and his expression changed from puzzled to thoughtful.
“I couldn’t imagine the woman I loved leaving me like that...and then sending me a text.” His laugh didn’t contain even an ounce of humor. “I didn’t even rate a Dear John letter.”
The knowledge that she’d hurt him stung. Bringing Andrew pain had never been her intention. She loved him. She wanted only the best for him.
Unfortunately, it had become apparent—to everyone but him—that she wasn’t what was best for him.
“I’m glad I came to Jackson Hole and we had this talk.”
Sylvie nodded.
“I’m also glad that we had sex.”
She cocked her head.
“It reminded me just how powerful the chemistry is between us.” His lips lifted in a slight smile for only a second. Then he was all serious again. “Undoubtedly the stellar sex made us think there was more between us than actually existed.”
Sylvie stopped a frown desperately trying to form and reminded herself this realization was what she had wanted. She wanted him to see their engagement had been a mistake. Then why did she have to fight the sudden urge to argue with him, to insist that it had been about more than sex?
“S-sounds logical,” she stammered.
“This should be simple.” He muttered a curse, pushed to his feet and began to pace.
Sylvie uncurled the leg she’d tucked beneath her and rose so she was standing. Though he was still a good five inches taller than her, being upright made her feel as if they were on equal footing. “It appears we’re ready to close the door.”
Pasting a polite smile on her face, she waited for him to agree. Then she’d give him the ring, he’d say his goodbyes and leave.
Instead he stared, his gaze searching her face.
“It might feel that way to you.” Andrew spoke slowly and deliberately, a frown still furrowing his brow. “The problem is, I find myself still wanting you.”
Her
