“Then why?—”
“Because I’m done.” The words tumble out of my mouth. “I’m done with this cordial bullshit between us. God, Pen, it killed me to watch him chatting you up tonight. To have all your attention on him.”
Her arms don’t uncross. “Good.” I deserve that. “Might I remind you that you said that the other night too? But then Easton knocked on the door, and you pushed me away again.”
“I know.” I push a hand through my hair.
“So what’s different now?” Her defenses are up and for good reason.
“I’ve been fighting this since I was eleven years old, and I’m thirty-four, and I’m so damn tired, Pen. I’m done fighting it.”
Something shifts in her face. The composed professional version flickers for a moment to a woman filled with hope. “And Foster?”
“I have to talk to him, but I couldn’t let another man take you home.”
“He didn’t have a chance of taking me home.”
“I know, but I just… wait right here?”
She huffs and her eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”
“I want us to have a fresh start, and to do that, I have to talk to Foster.”
She’s quiet. All I hear is the city noise around us. She could say no, and I wouldn’t blame her.
“Go.” Her voice is quiet.
I hold her gaze for one more second. “You’ll wait here?”
She nods. “You have ten minutes.”
I step forward, but she retracts. Of course she doesn’t want to kiss me right now. Not until she feels more secure. She needs to know that she’s not going to give me all of her just for me to break her heart.
I turn and steadily walk back into the venue, searching for Foster.
The question I haven’t asked until right now is what do I do if he says no?
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Decker
* * *
Foster, a water in hand, is standing at the bar with Hayes.
I weave through the clusters of people, nodding polite hellos and putting up my finger, telling them I’ll be right back, for those who want to talk to me.
“Hey, I haven’t seen you all night,” Hayes says when I approach.
“I need to grab Foster for a second.”
Hayes’s eyebrows lift. “I won’t be a whiny Easton.” He pats me on the shoulder and walks away.
“You feeling okay? You have beads of sweat along your forehead.” Foster sips his water and looks over my shoulder, probably looking for Callie.
“I’m fine. Can we go to the hallway quick?”
