“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“It’s fine,” she says, not meeting my gaze. “Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s not fine. It won’t happen again. I promise.” She doesn’t answer, and desperation edges my voice. “I don’t routinely get drunk, Finley. That was the first time in years, and it was a moment of weakness.”
She finally looks up at me. “I’m not judging you, Alex. For any of it.”
Then she bolts for the door and heads downstairs.
Chapter Seventeen
Finley
I head down the stairs, feeling sick to my stomach. I held it together in Alex’s room, but now that I’m alone, the façade crumbles.
I can’t bring myself to face Mallory and her mother just yet, so I sneak out the back door and pace in the snow-packed backyard, pulling in cold air that only makes my chest ache more.
Why are you so upset? You already knew he wasn’t interested in dating you. He made that clear yesterday.
I walked into this situation with eyes wide open—this was a platonic, transactional relationship. I’m getting more than my fair share out of the deal, so how can I complain?
But knowing it isn’t the same as hearing it. Hearing him tell Roland he’d never sleep with me was one thing. Hearing the disgust in his voice when he said it—like the idea repulsed him—lodges in my chest like a shard of glass.
Tears sting my eyes, and I let them fall, telling myself they’re for my mother. I always cry around Christmas, when missing her feels unbearable. That’s why I’m sobbing in the backyard. Not because of that jackass upstairs.
Except he’s not a jackass. He never once led me on. He made it clear from the start that this was an arrangement, not a relationship. That makes him honest. And sure, he finds the thought of sleeping with me revolting, but he’s never been rude about it. He can’t help how he feels, right?
Still, my tears won’t stop. I swipe furiously at my cheeks with frozen fingers when I hear footsteps crunch on the side of the house.
I look up to see Tyler rounding the back corner of the house with several shopping bags in his hands. He halts when he sees me. I freeze too. Unless he’s blind, there’s no hiding that I’ve been crying.
He drops the bags on the sidewalk and takes a few steps closer, uncertain. “Finley, are you okay?” He winces. “Sorry, dumb question. Obviously, you’re not.” His gaze flicks toward the house. “Do you want me to get Alex?”
My eyes widen in panic. “No!” The last thing I want is for Alex to know I’m out here crying. “I’ll be okay. I just need a minute.”
He stands in place, shoving his hands in his pockets, then waits a beat before he asks, “Did you give Alex his phone?”
“Yeah.” I swipe at my tears again, annoyed they won’t stop.
“Did that go okay?” he asks cautiously.
“Yeah,” I say, but it comes out shaky. I try forcing a smile. “He was on a call with his partner, so?—”
“He was on a call when I found his phone in the snow?” His eyebrows lift.
“A video call.” But the thought of the call brings another hot stab of tears.
“Finley,” Tyler says softly, taking a step toward me. “You’re obviously not okay.”
“I will be,” I say, trying to assure him, but I’m trying to assure myself too. “I just need a minute.”
He hesitates. “Do you want me to get my sister?”
“No.” I let out a short laugh. “Please don’t. She’ll insist on digging into this, and I just need to have a good cry and move on.”
He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve got her pegged.”
“She wears her heart on her sleeve.” I wipe more tears from my face. “So, it’s not that hard.”
