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He hadn’t even really entertained the notion that he could change. That he didn’t have to be the guy who didn’t get the girl anymore. Rubbing his face with both hands, he explored his options. There was the obvious one. He could continue on as he’d been, pretending he didn’t crave her as much as a drug addict did his next hit. Keep his distance and his soul intact…or as intact as it could be, anyway.
It’s what he did best, after all.
Keeping a distance.
Or he could man up and fight for her, even though he wasn’t sure what exactly it was that he fought for. He wasn’t looking for an actual relationship with her…was he? Sure, it’s what she deserved. But could he do that?
He wasn’t so sure.
The one time he tried to fit into a box, and be a real boyfriend with Rachel, had been a disaster. He’d been a shitty boyfriend to Rachel, and he’d probably be an even shittier one to Lauren.
If he screwed everything up, he could lose her. That was what scared him, more so than the idea of him doing nothing did. Losing her would kill him.
He already accepted he wasn’t good enough for her, and never would be. But he could try to be better. To do better. For her. All she had to do was ask…
And he’d give it 100 percent.
Maybe Lauren was the woman he had been waiting for his whole life, and he’d been too dumb to see it. Was he willing to continue being a dumbass, and risk losing her? Could he stand aside and watch her find another man who wasn’t scared to let her into his heart? Watch her kiss him? Sleep with him? Marry him? Have his babies?
Fuck no.
The mere idea made him want to brutally murder a fictional man, so he got his answer. Now what was he going to do about it? All Steven did anymore was work, drink, and get laid. What kind of man would he be if he went from that, to being in a committed relationship with the best woman on Earth?
A bad one.
And he’d already done enough bad things.
If he was serious about being with her—if he was even thinking of entertaining the possibility—he needed to clean up his act first. Stop fucking. Stop drinking. Get his shit together. Then, and only then, would he have any right to get the girl.
And if he did all that and succeeded?
He’d fight like hell to keep her.
Chapter Eleven
If Lauren wasn’t seeing it with her own two eyes, she would never believe it. Steven Thomas, the man who had no clue what an oven was for as far as she was aware, was here. Helping her bake a cake. With a smile on his face.
Whistling “The Star-Spangled Banner” under his breath.
She also couldn’t believe he kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye, and quickly glancing away whenever she stared at him directly, as if he didn’t want her to see—and actually thought he got away with it. She just couldn’t figure out why he kept looking at her like she might bite.
The only thing she could guess was that he was trying to act as if they were fine, just like she was, and struggling. Did he regret last night? She didn’t. Despite the fact that she had a feeling no other man would ever live up to Steven as a lover, one night in his arms was worth any lingering desire she still felt for him. A desire that she had a feeling would never fully go away. But whatever. She’d deal.
She was a big girl.
“What next?” he asked, brushing his wrist across his face and leaving an adorable flour trail behind. His cheeks were flushed and he had bags under his eyes, but…he looked more alive than he had in weeks. Months, even.
Apparently, baking suited him.
She bit back a smile. “You’re not finished stirring. You still have one more minute to go.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, glowering down at the bowl. “It’s a miracle you don’t have arms the size of The Rock’s by now.”
“Maybe I do,” she teased.
He snorted and picked up the spoon again. He’d argued against hand stirring, wanting to use the mixer instead, until she told him it made for a smoother, richer cake—and that’s what made her customers come back. Superior product. “Even if I hadn’t just seen you naked, I would know for a fact that you don’t.”
“God,” she muttered. “You just can’t resist mentioning that again and again and again—”
