Page 58 of One Quick Obsession

I frowned. “Of course I’m here. I said I would be.”

She rolled her eyes, leaned forward, and put her hand on my chest. When her lips brushed mine, I sighed.

“Okay, grumpy.”

“I’m not grumpy,” I lied.

“Of course you’re grumpy, that’s what I like about you.”

“Sure. We can go with that.”

She just smiled, before looking down at what I held in my hand.

“What’s this?”

I shrugged. “Something I thought you might like. You can hate it. It’s fine.”

The problem was, I didn’t want her to hate it. I wanted her to love it. And want more of it.

This was a problem. After all, Scarlett was so much better than me. I knew that, the town knew, and my family would know if they actually paid attention.

Yet yelling at them about wasn’t going to help anyone.

She needed to know the truth about me. About everything had happened. She might not believe she did at this point, but I knew it. Pretending the worst hadn’t happened wouldn’t help anyone. It would just make it harder for me to leave when the time came, so I needed to tell her the truth. And maybe today would be the day. Or maybe I’d be just as much of a coward as always.

I finally blinked out of my own thoughts and looked up at Scarlett who frowned at me.

“What’s wrong, Hudson?”

“Nothing.” I cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I set this inside before we go out?”

“Of course not. What is it?”

“It’s nothing much,” I said with a shrug, as I moved passed her into her home. It smelled of coffee, fresh flowers, and that scent that was all Scarlett.

When she finally left me after she realized the type of man I was, it would take forever for me to get that scent out of my brain.

“Can I open it?” she asked, her hands outstretched.

I nodded, suddenly self-conscious that she’d hate it, and wondered what the hell I was doing, before she finally took it from my hands.

She gently set the large rectangular package on the kitchen island and began to slowly undo the brown paper wrapping it.

“You don’t have to be too careful with the paper. It’s not fancy or anything.”

“I just don’t want to damage what’s beneath it.” There was an odd note underneath her tone, and I realized her hands shook.

“Scarlett?”

“No. I’m fine. Totally fine.” As she began to blink quickly, I realized she now stared at the front of the painting.

“Hudson.” Her voice cracked, and I cursed under my breath.

“You don’t have to like it. Or even take it. You just mentioned that you wanted a painting, and I like to paint. It’s sort of what I do. So, here you go. It’s yours if you want it.”

She just stood there, holding the painting without a word, as tears began to trickle down her face.

I cursed again and reached for the painting. She clutched it to her chest and shook her head.