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“You and Collins? Seriously?”

Shaking my head, I slowly lift it to make eye contact again. “Neither of us expected this, you have to know that.”

He pushes away from the table, the chair tipping behind him and crashing to the floor. “But you pursued these feelings.”

I drop my elbows to the table and push my hands through my hair.

“You’re hooking up with the widow of our best friend, Ansel.”

My head snaps up. “We’re not hooking up. It’s not like that.”

He crosses his arms and stares down his nose at me. “Have you been physical with her?”

I’m not going to tell him about Collins getting off while fully clothed on my lap. He doesn’t need the particulars.

“We’ve kissed… made out. Once,” I quickly add.

Fowler scoffs and shakes his head as if I’m the world’s biggest piece of shit. “Oh, well if that’s all, then what’s the big deal, right? Our best friend died, and now you’re going to what? Ride off into the sunset with his widow?”

I slam my hands on the table and stand. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. We’re taking a step back for the time being. But you’re acting like I don’t know how fucked up this situation is. Do you think I want to feel this way about her? Do you? Believe me, my life would be much easier if I didn’t feel anything.”

He points at me. “You should have cut it off before anything happened between you guys. It never should’ve gotten this far.”

“I tried!” My arms fly up from my sides. “I tried, damn it, I did.”

“Apparently not hard enough.” He storms from the room. Seconds later, his bedroom door slams.

I drop my head into my hands. I deserved that.

If Fowler can’t accept it, what chance do we have with everyone else?

The next morning, I’m getting the coffeemaker going when the telltale creak in the floor sounds of someone at the threshold of the room. I still, knowing it’s Fowler.

A dull headache thrums behind my eyes because I barely slept last night.

“Coffee?” I ask without turning around.

“Yeah, sure.”

I open the cupboard door in front of me and pull out another mug while the coffee brews. Since I haven’t heard the floor creak again, I know he’s still there, but I don’t turn around until the coffee is done brewing and I’ve poured some into his mug.

Turning, I hold it out for him.

“Thanks.” He accepts it and takes a sip.

I walk over to the fridge to put some cream in mine.

When I turn around, I’m about to leave the kitchen when Fowler says, “I’m ready to talk.”

Halting in place, I slowly turn around. The truth is, I understand why he feels like he does, but at the same time, a part of me is pissed at him because he has to know that I would have avoided this had I seen it coming.

With a sigh, I sit at the kitchen table. He sits across from me. We’re in the same positions we were in last night, but his temper has dissipated. Which is how Fowler usually is, but I had my doubts it would go that way this time around. This isn’t the same as the time I told him I’d do his paper route and didn’t, only for him to get his ass handed to him by Mr. Creager.

“I’m sorry I popped off last night.”

I blink in surprise. That’s not what I expected him to say. I assumed he was going to recite all the reasons this is a bad idea.

“You caught me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting you to tell me you had feelings for Collins.”