Voyeur - Lacey Alexander [112]
Knowing the things they’d done together, face to face, body to body, and knowing how very close to him she’d felt, how very trusting, how very attached—she knew already that dirty cyberchat wasn’t going to make up for what she lacked. Already it felt empty. Like moving backward. She couldn’t do it. She typed her answer in sadly. RILEY: No.
FLYBOY1: Would you?
RILEY: No again.
FLYBOY1: Did I just accidentally do something to make you mad at me?
RILEY: No.
FLYBOY1: Then is something wrong?
RILEY. Yes.
FLYBOY1: What?
RILEY: I love you.
She sent it without giving herself a chance to even consider it. It was gone, and it couldn’t be brought back. She felt sick, her stomach churning, every nerve ending in her body tingling so intensely it was painful.
When he didn’t answer, she feared she would throw up.
And then a message appeared.
FLYBOY1: I didn’t know that, honey.
A far cry from I love you, too. Oh God, she’d made a horrible mistake. RILEY: I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t believe I did. Forget about it, okay?
FLYBOY1: I don’t know how to forget about something like that.
Laura made a stressful decision—to barrel ahead to the heart of the matter. She had to—nothing else made any sense.
RILEY: Well, since I’m pretty sure you don’t feel the same way, I want you to at least TRY to forget it, okay? I want you to remember me fondly, not like the dork who just spouted out something without thinking about it.
FLYBOY1: I never said I didn’t feel the same way.
Her chest ached from the intense beating of her heart. RILEY: But you didn’t say you did, either.
A long, painful hesitation on his end that made tears well in her eyes. FLYBOY1: I don’t even really know what love is, Laura. That kind of love. I’ve never been in it. You know me—bachelor forever and all that. I’m sorry.
Well, that was all she needed to know. She still possessed the ability to excite him, but he didn’t love her. And he was a nice enough guy that he was trying to let her down easy. The person on the other side of the situation, though, never seemed to understand that there could be nothing easy about it.
Taking a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears enough to type, she constructed an answer. RILEY: I understand. Thank you for reading my book and letting me know. I have to go now.
And she shut down her Instant Message program and Internet connection as quickly as she could, before he could reply. Then she even shut down the computer altogether.
Methodically, she shed her jogging pants for a pair of jeans, left the apartment, and started walking toward Starbucks, even at the risk of seeing the guy she’d refused to kiss, because she simply had to get out of the house for a little while.
She couldn’t believe she’d told Braden she loved him.
You could have had lots of fun IMing him. You could have had a secret little Internet affair for weeks, months, years. But thinking of “years” brought back the original problem she’d figured out during the exchange: it just wasn’t enough, and she couldn’t survive on that. Back when she’d first arrived at the Vail house, she’d questioned whether or not she even knew what it was to be in love—but now she definitely knew. She was in love with Braden, and nothing less than him loving her back was going to make her happy.
Which probably meant she was destined for a long life of dirty clothes, sad movies, and writer’s block.
Chapter Nineteen
Part of Braden couldn’t believe he was in a Seattle cab speeding toward the address he’d gotten from his cousin, Monica. But another part of him couldn’t believe he’d managed to wait this long.
It had been a week since Laura had told him she loved him. A week since she’d rushed abruptly off the computer and ignored his every IM since.
Maybe it was just as well—because he hadn’t even been sure what he wanted to say, only that he’d hated feeling he’d hurt her, and hated the idea that they might never come into contact with each other again. The more he’d imagined