“You deserve the chance to live the life you were denied. I get that, but I can’t be a part of it.”

“A part of what? I’m not interested in anyone else.”

She stood and paced to the window. Her mind was swirling. She’d never dated. That was embarrassing but also true. She’d never had a boyfriend or anything remotely normal and now Keith was mad at her because she didn’t have the right skill set and in some weird way, he wanted her to go out and have experiences with other men?

She looked at him. “So if I’d had a bunch of relationships before, you’d sleep with me now?”

“It’s not just about the sex.”

“But you would.”

“Maybe.”

One of them was crazy and she was starting to think it wasn’t her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He stood and glared at her. She had no idea where the anger was coming from, but it was plenty real.

“You want to know? Fine. I’m in love with you. I probably have been for a while, but I didn’t realize it. Now I know and while I respect the fact that we’re in different places emotionally I will not be some boy toy you use and toss aside when you’re ready to move on to a real relationship.” He shook his head. “Let me be clear. I get the irony of the situation. After years of women begging me to love them back, here I am, in the exact same position. I want it all, Ellen. You and me in a committed relationship. I won’t settle for anything else, which puts us in a bind, because I don’t think you want that with me.”

In love? With her? Keith?

Her legs started to give out so she sank into a chair and stared at him. There were no words, no thoughts, just total and complete shock.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, sounding more resigned than angry.

Before she could stop him, he’d headed for the front door and was gone.

twenty-six

Unity stood in the master bedroom, staring at the made bed—the one that had never been used. She thought about her plans for the remodel and how she’d been so excited to pick out tiles and fixtures and do the work herself. Only now she couldn’t summon the energy to do any of that. Once again she was going through the motions of living when in truth she was—

“What?” she asked aloud. “Dead inside? Or am I just scared?”

Scared of living and scared of moving forward and scared of being alone. Because as long as she lived as if Stuart was still with her, she wasn’t alone. Not really. She could pretend that her grief was so large, it left no room for things like trying again or growing or failing.