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Her voice perks. “Yeah?”

“Your pick. You can school me on how to make them.”

“You didn’t add any cilantro last time.”

“I’m a monster.”

She nods, but there’s no enthusiasm in it.

She’s pulling away.

I can’t let that happen.

I need to fix this.

But that means fixing my head.

And I don’t have a fucking clue how to do that.

Chapter 35

Ryan

Leighton shifts her weight between her heels. She taps her grey jeans with her silver fingernails. Adju

sts the lacing on her tank top.

Fuck. It’s like she’s wearing this shit to make some point about what an idiot I am for not taking her against the wall.

No arguments here.

I’d kill to turn off the part of my brain that throws up the brakes. That part that’s still tied to my ex-girlfriend.

I’d kill to pry that last bit of my heart from Penny’s French manicured grasp.

The couple in front of us rises to their tiptoes to order at the window. The guy wraps his arms around the girl. Laughs at some joke as he hands over a twenty-dollar bill.

Leighton taps her cork sandal against the pavement. “I’ll order.”

“I know.”

“I’ll get it too. You can find us someplace to sit.”

“We can go back to the apartment.”

“I don’t want to be there.”

I bite my tongue. She’s pissed. I get that. I deserve it.

If she needs time to deal with that, fine.

But I need to know.

She motions to another couple sitting on the curb. “Let’s grab that spot.”

“All right.” I’m being a hypocrite—holding onto all this instead of explaining it to her. But I don’t know how to put it into my words. I don’t know how to make her understand.

It’s not that I still love Penny.

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