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“You weren’t. That’s what it means when someone consistently ignores every single message you send them. It means they don’t want to talk to you.”
“Wouldn’t know. Haven’t experienced it before. But I took it to mean you wanted to see me in person, so here I am.”
I shake my head, looking down at my nearly complete physics notes and then my word salad. I stack them together and shove them in my notebook, then I put my things back in my bag.
Before I lift the heavy ass thing, I walk over to the cookie table to grab one more of the red velvet ones because they were delicious and I’m still hungry, then I retrieve my bag and slide the strap over my shoulder.
“Well, seeing as you’re a devoted student of the sciences now and this auditorium isn’t big enough for both of us, I’m leaving. Enjoy your seminar,” I say, then I turn to go.
He’s off the couch and after me a second later.
“Brynn, wait.”
“No, Killian,” I snap, whipping around to face him. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to even show up today? I got no sleep. I am exhausted, physically and emotionally. I don’t have the energy for this.”
He’s not so glib now. “I get that. You don’t think I feel the same way?”
“Well, I certainly can’t tell.”
I really can’t, and it’s fucking annoying. I look like a homeless lady who lives in the park and steals the odd scraps tossed to nearby birds, and I feel even worse than that. He looks like a carefully selected profile picture.
I’ve never hated how goddamn effortlessly attractive he is more than in this moment.
More gently, but also a little bit like an asshole, he says, “Well, maybe if you answered my text messages, you’d know.”
I glare at him. “I don’t text engaged men. Sorry.”
With that, I turn back around and storm out of the lounge.
The bastard follows me.
“See, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound like you’re really sorry.”
“Killian, I swear to god…”
“Hey, come on, stop.” He grabs my arm, making me stop, but we’re alone in the hallway now. “I’m serious. I need to talk to you.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Unless you’re telling me you’re not marrying Sloane, I have nothing to say.”
That kills the last remaining sparkle of amusement in his blue eyes, and as unhinged as it is, I almost feel guilty.
“It’s not that simple, Brynn. I wish…” He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. But I know I fucked up a lot for you, and I want to fix it.”
“I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, maybe. I don’t care. You’re getting my help anyway. Have you checked your bank account today?”
“No,” I say, frowning.
He nods at my bag. “Give it a look.”
Scowling even more, I pull my phone out and quickly log into my online banking.
The balance should say I have about $45, so my heart drops into my stomach when instead it says my balance is $10,046.28.
Eyes wide, I look back up at him. “What the hell is this?”
“In the interest of not letting you walk headfirst into any more walls I’ve built without a warning, I should tell you that when I called you off work to go to Paris, I didn’t exactly just call you off for the weekend.”
