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Once the door opened, she stood there looking gorgeous as hell, while he felt like he was fucking dying. She wore a pair of leggings that hugged her curves, a loose black tank top, and her long brown hair in a ponytail. Her brown eyes were deep and dark, and her cheeks a light pink. She looked like she hadn’t missed a minute of sleep, while he felt like he hadn’t found any. Without even the slightest trace of makeup, she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen.
“Shelby.”
She leaned on the doorjamb, not inviting him in but not exactly shutting him out, either. “Feeling better?” she asked, her voice soft.
“Kind of,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Look, whatever I said last night—”
“It’s fine.” She crossed her arms. “You were drunk.”
“I was.” He cleared his throat. “But it’s still no excuse for whatever I might have said or done.”
“You were angry.”
He hesitated. “No… I was just…just…”
“Angry. You were angry.”
He closed the distance between them. “Fine. I was angry.”
“Why were you angry?” she asked slowly.
Sometime between his apartment and her door, he’d decided to play along with what she so clearly wanted. If she didn’t want to tell him she was moving, then he’d wait until she did. If she did. If that made it easier for her, then so be it. He’d make it easier. “It had nothing to do with you, actually. I lost a client.” That was true. He’d lost a client.
It was why he’d shown up at her place early.
But he hadn’t given a damn.
She frowned. “Really?”
“Yeah. Selfserve, Inc. went with another firm. I tried to shrug it off and come see you, but I was in too bad of a mood to talk, so I left and went out with my brother.” He offered her a small smile. “And the rest, you already know.”
She lifted her chin. “That’s your story?”
“Yeah.”
“Bullshit.” She came forward, poking him in the chest with her finger. “Tell me the truth. We promised each other we wouldn’t lie.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Wow. That’s rich, coming from you.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, rearing back.
“You heard me.”
She stared at him a second, seeming at a loss for words. “If you have something to say, then say it.”
“I’ve got nothing to say. Just like you, right? I mean, I’m not the one who made plans to leave town and didn’t even bother to mention it to you.” Well, shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean—”
“You meant exactly what you said.”
“You should have told me,” he finally conceded, done pretending he didn’t know. Clearly, he wasn’t good at it, probably because he wasn’t a fucking liar. Never had been. “Why didn’t you tell me? Were you just going to slip away one morning, and never even fucking say good-bye?”
“What? No.”
He swallowed hard and prepared to lay his heart on the damn floor. “Then tell me why you didn’t think I could be trusted with the news that you got your dream job. Tell me why you thought that wasn’t something you should tell me, because from where I’m standing, it means one of two things. Either you didn’t trust me to be happy for you, which is bullshit, or you didn’t think I warranted any information because I don’t matter to you, and that fucking hurts.”
His damn voice cracked on the last word.
Son of a bitch.
