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“You’re worrying me. Where are you?”
“I’m at home.”
“Is Augustus okay?” She sounded panicked.
Poor Naomi still loved Auggie after all these years.
“He’s fine, as far as I know. He’s not here, but someone else is.”
“Another bimbo?” I could hear her blood boiling.
“No. Kane,” I whispered.
“That’s not unusual.”
“He’s living here while his house is being renovated,” I eeked out.
“Really?” She laughed. “Well, that is quite the bold move.”
“What does that mean?”
“Honey, isn’t it obvious?”
“No, it’s not.”
She paused. “I’ve been reluctant to say anything to you, but it’s obvious you two never really got over each other.”
“Of course, we did,” I said like I was defending my honor. “I got engaged, remember?” And believe me, Kane was way over me. Honestly, I wondered if he was ever really into me. He so easily left me, how could he have been?
“Yes, I do,” she sighed. “I have to say, I’m happy you didn’t go through with it.”
I slapped my hand against my chest. “I thought you liked Ethan.”
“Liked him, yes. But I had my concerns.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“Honey, you seemed determined, and I didn’t want to stand in the way of . . .” She paused and paused.
“Stand in the way of what?”
“Well, of your desperate attempt to move on.”
“Desperate?” I was highly offended. Though only because she was probably right. “I’m not desperate.”
“Perhaps that was a poor choice of words,” she conceded. “But, honey, you need to face the truth. You never got over Kane.”
I wiped some tears from my eyes, not willing to admit that for even a second. “Can I stay with you?” I pleaded again.
She took a deep breath and let it out. “As much as I would love that, I’m going to tell you I think it’s best if you stay there. It will be good for you.”
I almost fell backward into the tub. “Good for me?” I questioned while I steadied myself.
“You’ve been running away from your feelings for far too long.”
“No feelings here to run from,” I lied.
Before she could call me out on my lie, there was a loud knock on the door, making me scream, I was so on edge.
“You all right in there?” Kane shouted.
“Fine, just fine.”
Naomi laughed. “Sounds like I better let you go. Have fun.”
Why does everyone keep thinking this is going to be fun? “Thanks a lot.”
“I love you, honey. Call me later.”
I hung up and took a deep breath. “I’m leaving. The bathroom is all yours,” I called out, even though I hadn’t freshened up like I had planned to. Or even taken out my contacts. My eyes needed the break. After years of wearing them, I still didn’t love them. But I found them to be better when working in the lab, especially when looking through a microscope. Besides, there were five other bathrooms in this house I could use.
“Don’t go. I brought you cookies.”
I did love cookies, but . . . “Are you dressed?”
“If you want, I can take the towel off.” He laughed to himself.
Well, that did it, I dropped my phone onto the Italian tile and faltered back into the large, jetted tub while visions of . . . well, never mind, danced in my head. I let out a yelp when I hit my head and my legs flew up in the air.
I had no idea how Kane unlocked the door, but I was filing that bit of information away and definitely using a different bathroom during my short stay. He swept in, in all his half-naked glory, and before I knew it, he was towering above me, giving me the same look—a mixture of concern and amusement—he had eight years ago when he’d caught me with my hand stuck down my bra digging out cake crumbs.
He reached out his hand to me, his eyes smiling.
“I’m fine.” I tried to right myself. I couldn’t touch him. I knew exactly how it would feel. It would feel like coming home. And he’d made it clear eight years ago that he didn’t want to play house with me.
While I awkwardly tried to maneuver myself into a less precarious position, he reached in and easily lifted me up and out. The force of it had me landing way too close to him. I could smell the clean scent of his body soap and feel the heat rolling off him. I wanted to back away, but he had ahold of my hand and it would mean going back in the tub. There was something so comforting about his hand—it warmed me in ways I couldn’t explain. It didn’t matter, though; he’d chosen his path, and it went in the opposite direction of mine.
I pulled my hand away from his. “Thanks.” I tried to keep my eyes averted. Unfortunately, my line of sight was his defined pectorals. How I ached to brush my fingers across his smooth chest. I clenched my fists, resisting the urge. Why he still affected me like this I couldn’t explain, and I wished he didn’t.
