Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (reading a book TXT) 📕

was a Sousa march that kept the rhythm of her life in perfect ordinary time.

Last night it had all boiled over, making her all too aware that she’d settled. She’d done what everyone expected of her—in her choice of career as well as her choice of men. And she’d understood with startling clarity that she was just damn tired of it. Finally. She wanted to grab life the way Jacie had.

Still, she owed it to Andrew to make him understand, even if she thought the task next to impossible.

She gestured toward the kitchen table. “If we’re going to have this discussion, why don’t we sit down?”

“No, thanks. I’ll stand.”

“Fine. Whatever.” She took a sip of the hot liquid in her mug. “I’m sorry I didn’t return your phone calls but…I wasn’t sure what to say to you yet.”

Or ever.

“You didn’t think you owed me an explanation for running out the way you did? In the middle of the evening?” He glared at her over the rim of his mug.

She bit back another sigh. “I…just needed some time to get my thoughts together.”

And figure out how to tell you it’s over. Finished. And how to make my well-meaning parents understand that I’m not a teenager anymore and can make my own choices. Even if people won’t like them.

“I’ll take them any way you deliver them,” he told her. “But I want to know what I did to make you leave the way you did. One minute we’re watching a movie and I’m looking forward to going to bed with you, the next you run out like a crazy person. What’s up, Emma? This is just not like you.”

No kidding.

She moved to the little bay window that looked out into her backyard, staring outside but not really seeing anything.

“No matter what I say, Andrew, I don’t think you’ll understand. I’m afraid you’ll be hurt and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She tried to swallow but the strain of the situation made her mouth too dry. She was all too aware she should have thought of this earlier, but when she fled his house, the only thing on her mind was escaping a suffocating situation. And didn’t that just say something about her feelings for this man that she hadn’t even given one thought to his reactions?

Yes, Emma. Something you should have done before racing out of his house as if your pants were on fire. Or when you tried to blow him off a while ago. He might be dull and stuffy but you were with him a long time and he’s still a human being.

“Hurt? Damn straight I will.” His anger rolled through the room in waves. It was the most emotion Emma had ever seen from him. “But there’s certainly something you can do about it. You can forget all this nonsense.” He smoothed his hand over his hair. “Emma, we’ve been together for two years. I thought we had plans. I just assumed….”

“Yes.” She whirled around, coffee sloshing onto her hand. The liquid burned and she grabbed a paper towel from the counter to blot it. “You assumed. And that’s as much my fault as yours. I know you love me, in your own way, but my feelings for you have changed.”

“In my own way?” He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean? My way was good enough for two years.”

“Andrew, I can’t think of another way to say this except we aren’t going to be seeing each other any more.”

Hurt and confusion were etched on his face. “You’re breaking up with me? Why? I thought…expected….”

“And that’s part of the problem.” She set her mug on the table, guilt and irritation waging a battle inside her. “We met, everyone thought we were perfect for each other, including my folks. I was convinced everyone was right. Except….” She turned away, unwilling to deal with what she knew she’d seen in his eyes. It was so clear to her now he’d never understand her motivation—her desperate need for change.

“Except what, Emma? You didn’t think so? Then what was the past two years all about? We’re comfortable with each other, for God’s sake.”

“But that’s just it,” she cried. “I’m tired of being comfortable. Tired of doing what everyone expects of me. Tired of being the poster child for the typical good girl. I want more out of life. A lot more.”

He stared at her for a long time, a mixture of emotions shifting across his face. “You’re bored with me.” He said the words as if each one was a poison pellet.

“Not just you.” She held out her hands, palms open, as if pleading with him. “With my life, Andrew. All of it.” She bit her lip. “Try to understand. I like you a lot but I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love with you.” God, she was such a coward. And selfish. She just wanted this conversation to be over with. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with anyone.”

Until now. And I’ve probably screwed that up good and tight. Serves me right, I guess.

“Not even me?”

He stood there clutching his coffee mug, a muscle working in his jaw, anger sparking in his eyes. It was hard for Emma not to make comparisons. Where Andrew was all smooth edges and precise, like the clean lines on an architectural drawing, Marc was…well…the joy ride. Excitement. Dark fantasies. Visceral emotions. Oh, yes, plenty of emotion.

“Emma?” Andrew’s voice was sharp.

She jerked back to reality. “Yes?”

“Where did you just go? We’re having a conversation here. Or at least I’m trying to.”

She rubbed her palms on her thighs. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“You keep saying that. So let me try to make sense of this. The past two years have meant nothing to you, right?”

“Not true.” She had to leave him with some dignity. And it hadn’t all been bad. “I enjoyed your company, Andrew. It’s been very, um, pleasant.”

“Pleasant,” he repeated. “A word to make a man’s heart beat faster.”

She shoved her hands