Page 32 of One Last Thing Before You Go

Still, he doesn’t deserve my attitude, the way I’ve treated him since seeing him for the first time that morning at the store.

Jenn was right to pull me aside this morning, to give me shit for how I’ve been acting.

“Please be nice to him, Lottie. I don’t get why you’re so mean to this guy you so clearly like⁠—”

“I’m not mean to him! I helped him when he was tipsy the other night after the party. And I definitely don’t like him,” I interrupted, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“—but I would appreciate it if you could control yourself and whatever inner turmoil you’re currently going through and just be professional.”

I scoffed, taking a step back from her. “Are you kidding me? This coming from the twenty-year-old who asked me if I’d ever tried edible crotchless underwear just two weeks ago at our Monday sales meeting? You’re going to give me a speech on professionalism?”

Jenn placed her hands on her narrow hips and glared at me. “That was different.”

“How?”

She threw her hands in the air in frustration, rolling her green eyes. “I don’t know, but it just is! Just be nice, please? Because the way you’ve been acting recently is giving diva. We all need to work together, okay? You know this.”

She was right.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe. Because I am. It’s not Knox’s fault I’m a mess and can’t handle the way he makes me feel. It’s not his fault the stress of this has flared up my endometriosis to the point where I threw up from the pain last night. It’s not his fault I had to reschedule my hysterectomy until after we’re done with this project, frustrating to the point of pure rage because it means living with this pain, this exhaustion, for a second longer than I hoped.

It’s not his fault, and I’m putting it all on him just because he’s somehow made me feel more of every single emotion—good or bad—than I have in years.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him again, voice stronger now.

“For what?” he asks, turning onto the highway.

For so many things. “For… for being mean to you.” I fidget in my seat, tangling and untangling my fingers in my lap.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not always mean to me. Sometimes you border on nice. I can handle whatever you throw at me.” Knox laughs easily—always so light and happy—and glances over at me. “Plus, I take it as a compliment.”

“A compliment?”

“Yeah. A compliment. Because I don’t think you being ‘mean’ to me—or just a little snarky—has anything to do with you not liking me. I think it’s the complete opposite, actually.”

“The complete opposite, huh?” An involuntary smile tugs at my lips.

“Oh, one hundred percent. I think you’re freaked out that you like me so much, so your immediate reaction is to push me away.” He shrugs, unbothered. “It’s basic psychology, Lottie. Come on.”

I laugh dryly. “And you’re positive my annoyance toward you has nothing to do with your cocky attitude?”

“Please don’t confuse cockiness with confidence.”

I harumph, crossing my arms in front of my chest and gazing out the passenger window, essentially putting this conversation to bed. He can’t know that there might be some truth to his theory.

“Where did you find this convention, by the way? What sort of research did you do?”

“I love the subtle way you tried to change the subject.” He flashes me my favorite lopsided grin. “But to answer your question, it’s really amazing, actually. I tried this new thing called Google. Ever heard of it?”

I snort, biting my lip to keep from smiling back at him.

Dammit, he’s good.

“You’re such a smart-ass.”

He laughs softly with me, thrilled by my reaction while I almost regret the way my heart warms in my chest at the sound of his easy laughter.

“I also went through some of Walter’s paperwork in his office a couple of days ago. Saw that he’d been to this particular one about a year ago. So we’re good.”