Mostly, I’m angry. Angry that I let him take up so much space in my head for so long. Angry that part of me still expected him to be careful with me, even after everything.
It doesn’t feel like the raw, open wound it was a few days ago.
And I have a terrible suspicion that has a lot to do with Connor lying here beside me.
“I think I’m getting over him,” I say quietly, almost to myself.
Then I force a small smile, the admission feeling a little too revealing while I’m in bed with Connor. “Because, you know, I do have some pride,” I add quickly. “I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with me.”
Okay. Very smooth.
“That’s right,” Connor says, and his eyes soften. “You deserve better than that.”
My breath catches.
He doesn’t say it like some polite thing meant to make me feel better. He says it like he means it. Like he’s angry on my behalf. Like the idea of anyone treating me like I’m disposable genuinely bothers him.
For a moment, I let myself imagine it—what it would be like if this were real. If Connor actually felt something for me beyond neighborly obligation. If he were gay, or bi. If he wasn’t just doing this because he’s a nice guy who couldn’t say no to a sad drunk neighbor knocking on his door at 2 a.m. If we couldkeep kissing the way we had today, keep stealing quiet moments like this one long after the weekend ended.
But even letting myself think it feels dangerous. Like reaching for something I know will burn.
I clear my throat.
“So,” I say, forcing a lightness into my voice that I absolutely don’t feel. “We have the whole day tomorrow. You’re already doing me this massive favor—you should actually get something out of it too. What do you want to do?”
Connor shifts against the pillows. “It’s your dad’s birthday weekend,” he says. “We should probably spend the day with him. With your family.”
“My parents won’t mind,” I say. “We already gave them yesterday and today, and they’ll have Brad and Maria to keep them company.” I pause, then add, voice low, “And honestly? I could really use a break from Rick. This morning was already too much—and the hot tub didn’t exactly help.”
Connor nods, quiet for a moment, turning it over. “Alright. How about breakfast with everyone, and then we slip away? Grab some snacks, a bottle of wine, find somewhere quiet for a picnic.”
It’s so perfect—exactly what I need—that I’m smiling before I can stop myself.
“That sounds really good,” I say softly. “I’d like that.”
His answering smile is warm, easy. And it still manages to send a shiver straight down my spine.
“It’s a plan, then.”
I should get up. Start getting ready for dinner. Do literally anything other than lie here staring at him.
But I don’t move.
Finally, Connor sighs and sits up, running a hand through his hair. “We should probably get ready,” he says, echoing my thoughts. “Your mom said she’ll kill us if we’re late.”
“Good call.” I force myself upright. “She absolutely would.”
Connor stands and flicks on the light, and that’s when I notice he’s still in just his boxers. Apparently, this has already become a habit. I watch the muscles shift across his back and feel an embarrassing pull low in my belly.
I tell myself to stop.
“Oh, by the way,” he says, crossing to his bag in the corner. “I didn’t know what to get your dad, but I brought this.”
He pulls out a bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light.
“Midleton Very Rare,” he says. “It’s a good Irish whiskey.”
I stare at the bottle—the elegant packaging, the whiskey that looks like liquid gold. “Connor, you really didn’t have to. That looks insanely expensive.”
