The Lover’s Promise (No Exceptions #3)(3)
Author: J.C. Reed

“There’s always a new beginning, Jett,” she continued in a more hopeful tone, oblivious to my thoughts, absorbed in her own world. “You wanted to see me, and that’s all that matters. Deep down, I knew we were never over. That you’d come back to me someday.”

Her fingers wrapped behind my neck, forcing me to look up, her sinfully red lips coming so close I was instantly reminded of the countless times she had taken me between them, offering me the kind of pleasure that made me forget the shitty world around me. Passion—all raw and gritty and fulfilling—but without the feelings Brooke had stirred inside me. Tiffany leaned forward, whispering in my ear, “I know you think you have to marry her, but really, there are other options, Jett.”

I pressed my lips into a tight line.

There was no doubt that Tiffany had seen our sexual relationship as special, but to admit the truth, which was that I never really cared for her more than as a friend would be too hard a blow. I couldn’t hurt her more than I had already, but I had to. If only it were easy. If only she and Brian weren’t two of my best friends, and the only family I’d ever known It would have been so much easier if she were a mere acquaintance, a random stranger I could walk away from.

Seeing her feelings reflected in her blue eyes, I had no idea how to start. I inhaled a sharp breath and let it out slowly as I made up my mind. Things—no matter how painful—had to be said.

Her kiss came suddenly, catching me off-guard. Her tongue slid into my mouth, eager and hungry. For a second, I was too stunned to act, overwhelmed by memories of old times intermingled with the distant ringing bell and a faint awareness that Tiffany was in a relationship with the one guy whose trust I couldn’t betray.

Something stirred inside me, but it wasn’t pleasure. It was pity.

Pity that I didn’t feel the same for her as she did for me.

Pity that I didn’t want her anymore.

Pity that whatever had happened in the past was long over, that I had moved on from my old me. We had both evolved—in different directions at different speeds.

I grabbed her shoulder and pushed her away more roughly than I intended.

“Ti.” I breathed out, struggling for words. “What the fuck!”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, as if the motion could remove the marks of her lipstick and the taste of her lips. As if I could undo my mistakes. It did nothing to lessen the feeling of disgust at her behavior. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

She shrugged. “I thought you wanted to. That’s why I booked the room.”

“Are you drunk right now? Because if you aren’t, I swear I’ve no idea what’s gotten into your fucking head.” I regarded her intently, unsure whether to laugh or shake some sense into her.

“What’s wrong with you? I’ve been sober for the past seven years, and I’m very proud of it.”

I shook my head. “No, Ti. What’s wrong with you? You’re in a fucking relationship and so am I.”

“If it’s about Brian, I can explain,” Tiffany said softly. “I never thought you’d return to the gang. I never thought I might still feel the same way about you. When you told me you needed me, I knew it was your way of saying that you needed to see me the way you used to in the past.”

I stared at her. This was even worse than I had imagined. The whole situation was awkward and I didn’t do awkward.

On the one hand, I could understand her confusion. People don’t remain friends for no reason. They always fall back into benefits territory, which I had done too many times in the past before I met Brooke. Like last year, when in a desperate mood for sex, she just happened to be available and we hooked up. Time after time. On the other hand, Tiffany always changed when she started drinking. She became unpredictable, difficult to communicate with.

“We shouldn’t talk for a while,” I said weakly. “Meeting you here was a mistake.”

“What are you saying? That this is the wrong place?” She slowly scanned left and right, as if Brian might be lurking around the corner. I snorted inwardly because I doubted he’d just be standing around, watching, if he caught his girlfriend cheating.

“It’s not about Brian.” I swallowed. “I like you, Ti. I really do, but…”

There was a long pause.

“But what?” she prompted.

“You’re like a sister to me.”

“A sister?” She stared at me. “No one fucks his sister, Jett.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “That will never happen again.” My voice betrayed my anger. “What happened between us is over. Do you understand? Nothing will ever happen again.”

Now it was her turn to look at me, confused and vengeful. I could see her mind trying to glue my words together in order to make sense of them while her heart was slowly breaking.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” The tone was accusing. “She’s younger, and she’s pregnant. It’s her you want at the moment, but no woman ever lasts with you. They never did in the past and they won’t in the future.”

“This is different.” I turned away. “You knew she’s the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Those were my exact words when I ordered the ring.”

“And yet I thought it was all part of some grand plan of yours.” She laughed and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “You can’t blame me because you tend to have quite a few of those.”

Fuck, Tiffany had always been good at ignoring the obvious.

“It is, but not the way you might imagine.” I wet my lips, unsure whether to elaborate. As much as I trusted Tiffany, I didn’t trust her that much. “I’m doing it for real, because I want to be with her, not because I’m being forced nor because she’s pregnant. If her circumstances didn’t demand that I marry her, I’d still be thinking about it. I don’t expect you to understand, Ti.” I stared her down, my gaze hard. Maybe I hadn’t been clear enough. Maybe I needed to be a jerk for her to finally get the hint and move on. “I’m a changed man. What we had was not the same as what I have now with Brooke. So don’t tell me who I am. You don’t know me anymore. You don’t know fuck about me, Ti.” As soon as the words came out, hard and accusing, I regretted them. Being a jerk was one thing; being an asshole another.

“I’m sorry.” My hands reached out, but it was too late. She flinched as she looked at me as if I had just hit her with a fire lash.