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There it is. I was right before. She doesn’t trust me. She has no good reason to believe I’m capable of doing this, after all. And although I hadn’t even planned to make my move until I started this conversation, I think I might be kind of … devastated.
I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. “I understand,” I mumble after a while. “I guess I forgot for a second that I’m not built for anything real. But thanks for reminding me.”
“Blake, that’s not what I meant,” she says, her voice cracking.
I huff. “Sure it isn’t.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers after a while, reaching over to place a comforting hand on my chest. I want to push it away, mostly because even the slightest touch from her is making my insides melt, but I can’t.
“This has a lot less to do with you and your dating history than it does with my shitty self-esteem and trust issues,” she continues.
“It’s fine,” I reply dryly, slipping out from beneath her hand and leaving her alone in the bed. “It’s about time for us to break up, anyway, isn’t it?”
“Break up?” She has the nerve to look hurt.
“We agreed to a few dates. This was our third public outing. I think it’s safe to say we convinced everyone we’re sleeping together, especially after last night. Hopefully they’ll assume the babies are early or just not bother to do the math, right?” I explain as I sift through my suitcase for my clothes.
“You don’t want to pretend we’re dating anymore?” she asks quietly, sitting up in bed.
I shrug. “It’s probably best if we end it now, don’t you think? Especially if you want to keep our relationship completely platonic. Things have obviously started getting hazy on my end, and I wouldn’t want to do or say anything that might compromise our friendship.”
“Right,” she agrees, nodding quickly. But I can see she doesn’t like being on the receiving end of my rejection. “Can we just ease into it, though? I’d rather not stage a dramatic break up.”
“Yeah, of course. We’ll stick to the original plan and tell everyone we’re better off as friends. You could even say it was your decision, if you’d like to keep our story closer to the truth.”
She bites her lip as she stares back at me with those big, brown eyes and her chin trembling.
“Don’t look so upset, Reed. This is what you wanted. And you’ll be safe now, since you’ll only have to interact with me as a co-parent from here on out.” I flash her a scornful smile before escaping to the bathroom to get dressed.
I try not to think as I change my clothes and brush my teeth. She’s perched at the edge of the bed when I return, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’s been crying again.
“Bathroom’s all yours,” I announce. She stomps out and closes the door behind her without another word.
I finish packing and consider going downstairs for a cup of coffee, but I don’t think I could stop myself from getting one for her too. Even though my chest still stings from earlier.
I’m pathetic.
I’m sitting here, pining over a woman who doesn’t want me, just like my brother. No, scratch that—I might be worse than JD. I’m infatuated with a woman who doesn’t even think I’m capable of a real relationship. And I’m pissed at myself because I called her bluff, and she still won’t cave.
But I can’t dive into all that right now, not when I still have to endure the ride home with her. I settle for mindlessly scrolling on my phone until Loren’s done. She emerges about twenty minutes later and begins gathering her things, which she’s somehow managed to spread over the entire room in less than twenty-four hours. It takes all I have to stay angry and not smirk at her because it’s so freaking cute when she tosses everything into a messy pile and has to sit on top of her suitcase to zip it. I instinctively reach for her bag once she’s done, but she shoots me an angry glare.
“I’ve got it, thanks,” she murmurs.
I cock an eyebrow at her and gesture for her to go first, stifling my laughter when she struggles to open the door and get past the threshold with all of her stuff. I consider taking the stairs for a second, because I enjoy antagonizing her almost as much as I do making her feel good. But I don’t want to give her the chance to overexert herself.
I exhale loudly as I press the “down” button, annoyed at myself for being such a simp and at her for being so stubborn. She glances up at me questioningly, just as the elevator doors open to reveal the assistant district attorney and his wife.
They offer a friendly greeting as they make room for us. This time I don’t give Loren the chance to object when I snatch her suitcase and wheel it in behind her. She scowls at me again, and I tip my head toward the others, hopefully signaling that I need her to play along for one final act.
“Sleep well, lovebirds?” Mrs. Moreau asks, batting her eyelashes suggestively.
Loren bites her lip and blushes as she looks up at me. I clear my throat before letting go of her suitcase to wrap an arm around her waist. “I always sleep better with Loren beside me.”
She swallows hard when I stare her down. “Yeah. Me too,” she says, faintly. Then she catches herself and turns away. “How about you? I seem to remember you saying you were getting up early for Mass this morning, Mrs. Moreau. I suppose your plans changed?”
Loren’s expression shifts into one of admiration as the older couple chuckles and looks lovingly at one another.
“Oh, well, you know,” Mr. Moreau says. “We may have stayed up a tad too late last night. We had to make a littleparesseuxthis morning.”
