“He’s hot, for an old guy,” Mia says.
“She does have a point,” Sadie agrees.
I hug my sisters and cousins. “Where are the boys?”
“They won the flirting game and proceeded to the hook up game,” Julia says.
Connor is standing in the little hallway outside with my coat. He helps me put it on and buttons it up, knotting the belt.
“It’s like wrapping my own present,” he whispers, so only I hear him.
“Be safe,” Sienna says, when I hug her. I don’t think she’s talking about sexual safety. I feel like I’m going off to war rather than hooking up with an ex-boyfriend. Only, Connor isn’t any ex-boyfriend. He’s the one I’m still in love with.
SIXTEEN
SCARLETT
The ride back to Connor’s house is quiet. Snow started falling while we were in the bar, and everyone seemed to have disappeared inside. Connor keeps one of my hands in his, almost like he’s afraid I’m going to jump out of the car if he lets me go.
“What if I change my mind when we get to your house?” I ask.
Connor glances at me. “Then I’ll drive you right back to the Inn. Or, if you prefer, we can stay at my house and talk.”
“Oh, now he wants to talk,” I say.
Connor cuts me a look. “I always want to talk to you, Scarlett.”
“Except when it actually matters,” I retort.
He looks away, but not before I catch his flinch. I feel bad for being mean, but I have to be. I trusted him and he took advantage of that trust.
“I’m guessing you still haven’t read my letter?”
“Who leaves a letter Connor? How hard was it for you to pick up a phone and call me? We were together for six months and you called and texted me more than my parents or sisters. Sometimes I worried you were love bombing me.”
He looks horrified at the accusation, and it makes me laugh.
“I wasn’t! I just like talking to you.”Like, he says. “Even when you’re angry at me, I just want to listen to your voice.” He looks at me briefly. “Notin a creepy, sexualized way because of your job.”
I didn’t think it was creepy and sexualized, but I appreciated the clarification.
“Not that you’re inclined to talk to me right now,” he adds.
“Oh, so it’s my fault?” I turn to him.
“No!” He squeezes my hand once and looks at me suspiciously. “This reminds of that time you picked a fight with that kid.”
I gasp. “That kid was evil, Connor!”
I’m surprised he remembers. We’d been out at dinner one night and this toddler at the next table was having a tantrum and kept throwing pieces of bread at me. The parents were too busy talking and while I would never try to parent someone’s child, I made an exception in that case. Only it came across as me picking a fight with a toddler.
I look at him. His face is in shadow and even though he has one hand on the steering wheel and it’s snowing outside, his confidence isn’t wavering. His thumb rubs circles on the back of my hand.
“I didn’t think you’d remember,” I say honestly.
“What do you mean?” He looks at me in question.
“I don’t know why I thought you would purge all your memories of me.” I shrug, looking out the window. Him leaving meant he didn’t want to be with me and in my mind that meant he was going to make a concentrated effort to forget all about me, including the memories we made together.
