Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

SPENCER

L ying in Marlow's bed, I stared at the ceiling, thanking my lucky stars that my rough day had ended so spectacularly. The light from the kitchen streamed into the bedroom, casting a warm glow over the room. Marlow's scent, a mix of vanilla and something floral, filled the air. I could still smell the tomato and garlic from the amazing dinner she had made.

She lay beside me, one hand on my chest. She was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

"What does this mean, Spencer?" she asked, her voice soft but carrying an edge of something more. "One hookup can be chalked up to lust, but two? In my book, that's different."

I turned to look at her, noting the seriousness in her eyes. "Agreed."

"Rhett would be furious if he knew. So, if you know this is only sex and you don't want this to go anywhere, please, let me go. I can't do this to my brother again. Mess up one of his friendships, I mean."

I understood what she was saying. But the truth was, I wasn't in a position to give her what she wanted. I didn't know how to be a boyfriend. Even if I could figure that part out, I wouldn't know how to be a good boyfriend. She deserved a lot more than what I had to offer. Good sex did not make a relationship and that was honestly all I knew I was really good at. She had already been in one really bad marriage. I didn't want to put her through a bad relationship. That wasn't fair to her.

"Marlow, I'm fucked up," I said with a sigh.

"What do you mean?"

"I've never had a serious relationship. I haven't dated anyone properly in half a decade. I've been so focused on work that I don't know how to be there for someone else. Hell, I'm not even sure I want to be."

Her eyes widened, and I could see the surprise and hurt in her expression. "Oh," she said, sitting up and pulling the blankets around her to cover her breasts. "I see."

"Marlow, I?—"

"It's okay," she cut me off, her voice tight. "You were being honest. That's a good thing. I'm glad you were blunt."

I felt like shit. But she was right—I was being honest. I had no clue what I was doing. Every choice I'd made with her had been impulsive. Kissing her, sleeping with her, rushing to fight for her—none of it was premeditated or thought out. It was reckless, something I was kind of known for. I should have done a better job at reining in my desires. I just reacted. I saw something I wanted, and I took it. I was worse than a kid with no impulse control.

She scooted back a few inches, pulling her hand from my chest. The connection was broken. Just like that, I had managed to ruin one of the best moments of my life. I felt the chill in the air. We had gone from hot and heavy and joined together physically and emotionally to this. It was as if the moment never happened.

"This can't happen again," Marlow said quietly. "I don't do casual sex, Spencer."

"I understand." I didn't move, staring up at the ceiling and trying to think of something else to say. I felt her move and turned to look at her.

"You should go," she said quietly.

I understood, but that didn't stop the sting. "Okay."

"It's not personal," she said with a sad smile. "I had a nice time, but a hookup doesn't spend the night."

"I get it," I said, rolling out of the bed.

I got dressed, too ashamed to even look at her. With my back turned to her, I pulled on my clothes. The silence in the room was deafening, no longer a comfortable silence shared between two lovers but one that was heavy with disappointment.

"Spencer," she called just as I was about to step out. I froze, hoping her words would be a plea for me to stay. To talk it out or maybe even give us another chance. But when I turned to look at her, her expression was solemn.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

She said nothing for several long seconds. She held the blanket to her body, hiding her nudity from me as if I had not just feasted on her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I nodded. "Goodnight."

With that, I stepped out into the cool, dimly lit hallway and closed her door behind me. My footsteps echoed through the building as I made my way to the elevator. I could feel the heaviness in my chest growing with each step, a dull ache that was all too familiar.

I stepped outside, engulfed by the night. The breeze ruffled my hair, chilling my skin that was still warm from her touch. The harsh contrast served to remind me of what I had thrown away with my indecision. I walked toward my car parked at the curb, not daring to look back at her building. I didn't trust myself not to go back in there. A knot tightened in my stomach. Had I made a mistake? She wasn't going to give me another chance. I hurt her. I offended her.

I walked to my car and got in but didn't start the engine. I struggled to drive away. I sat there for what seemed like hours, staring blankly through the windshield, my mind in turmoil. Every inch of my body yearned to return to her, yet self-loathing and guilt kept me rooted in place. The sharp pangs of regret were already gnawing at me as I replayed the confrontation in my head over and over again.

She was offering me her. All I had to do was promise to be a good boyfriend. I knew the gist of what would be expected. No sleeping with other women. Calling her often. Taking her to dinner. I could do all of that.

But I had a feeling there was more to the job and that was where I was going to fail miserably. I wasn't the touchy-feely type. I didn't express myself well. I didn't know how to open up. Women wanted that. They needed that. The shit that was tucked away in the back of my brain needed to stay there.

I knew she deserved more than a man who was a closed book. She offered the world and needed at least half that in return. The man I was at that moment couldn't give her those things. The damage I carried inside me, my inability to let go, to trust anyone with my heart made it impossible. It was not an excuse. It was a fact.

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. The frustration roared within me like a caged beast. A single word echoed in my mind—failure. I wasn't good enough for her. For anyone. My own parents couldn't love me. How could I expect someone as beautiful inside and outside as Marlow to love me?

I leaned back against the seat trying to control the overwhelming urge to bang my fists against the dashboard. I screwed up. I should've been more considerate, more understanding, more something .

I finally managed to bring myself to start the car, but I still didn't put it in drive. I needed someone to tell me I was making the right choice. I pulled out my phone and called Graham, hoping for some advice, but there was no answer. I tried Derrick, but he was with his family. One by one, I tried all the others, but nobody was available. Once again, I felt like I was being left behind.

I was a lone wolf.

The drive home was a blur. I brooded, feeling like I couldn't catch a break. After everything I did today, Marlow wouldn't budge on her boundaries and let me stay close unless I committed to her. My friends wouldn't make time for me. Rhett wouldn't see my point about Dakota. The old menace inside me came back to life, bringing anger and sourness with it.

I pulled into my parking spot and sat in the car for a moment, trying to calm down. But the more I thought about it, the more my frustration grew. I got out of the car and slammed the door, the sound echoing in the quiet night.

I stomped through the opulent lobby, ignoring the night security guard as I slapped at the button for the elevator. As the elevator quietly climbed its way higher into the building, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The walls seemed to close in. My deepest fears and regrets filled the space.

I stalked into my penthouse suite, the lights automatically blinking on as I entered. The luxurious furnishings that once spelled success and achievement now seemed starkly hollow and meaningless. I tossed the keys onto the marble counter and grabbed a decanter of scotch. The amber liquid sloshed into a glass, the ice clinking against the crystal. I downed it in one gulp, the burn doing little to ease my turmoil.

I moved to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the city I'd conquered. I felt empty, lost in my own world of self-pity and remorse. My thoughts went back to Marlow. She wasn't just any other woman. She was the total package. I always felt so good with her. So anchored and normal.

I thought about calling her, but what would I say? Sorry for being honest? Sorry for not being able to give you what you want? It felt pointless. She anchored me, but I would drag her down. I knew I wouldn't be able to make her happy. She was this bubbly, happy woman and I was me. Little brought me joy these days.

Instead of calling her, I sank onto the couch, my mind racing. Why did I feel this way? Why did it bother me so much that Marlow wanted more than I could give? I'd always been fine on my own, focused on my career, content with casual relationships. But now?

Now I felt like something was missing.

I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. Maybe Marlow was right. Maybe I needed to figure out what I wanted. But the thought of losing her, of not having her in my life, made my chest tighten.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, just like I had in her bed earlier. The same question echoed in my mind. Did I make a mistake?

Maybe I was feeling this way because all of my friends had found their soulmates. They were moving on and they were happy. Maybe it was time for me to have that too. But I wasn't like them. They were open to love and being loved.

I reflected on every decision that led me here, standing alone in a home that felt void of life. We had all busted our asses to build our empire and sacrificed a lot. But my partners had been rewarded for their work and self-sacrifice. Not me. I was still the cold, lonely dude sitting up in his penthouse with a pile of money and things but no one to love.