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“In case she throws the flowers at you?” the florist says with a grin.
“Something like that.”
I leave with my loot.
By the time I’m home, showered, and changed—I can’t go begging for forgiveness looking like total shit—it’s almost ten a.m. Probably too late to catch her before work. The next few hours promise agony.
What if she slaps me and slams the door in my face?
Fuck.
What if I get pied like Magnus Heron? She has been hanging out with Paige a lot.
All I can do is suck it up and find out.
Later that evening, I’m knocking at her door with my sorry-I-fucking-wrecked-your-life presents.
She cracks the door. Even just a glimpse of one red eye stabs my heart out.
“It’s after six o’clock, I just got home, and I no longer work for you. Someone better be dead,” she snaps.
“Reese, can we talk? Please.”
“Since you said you can’t see me anymore, that might be hard. Go back to your car and text me. That way we can talk without actually seeing each other. Then again, usually when you can’t stand seeing someone you don’t randomly show up on their doorstep...”
“I deserved that,” I growl, slapping a hand against the door—which she diligently holds shut. “I know I messed shit up. Big-time. I’m sorry and I love you.”
She takes a harsh breath and says, “Apology not accepted.”
“I brought gifts.” I know it’s pathetic but I’m desperate to hold her attention. So I wave the bouquet and cotton candy like a drowning man.
“Billionaire bad boy tries to buy forgiveness. How boring. And you know I hate that stuff.” She glares at the cotton candy.
“I was hoping you’d take a chance on it. Things can change,” I say with a pained smile. “Or if you won’t, give it to Millie.”
“Millie’s gone,” Reese whispers.
I blink, staggering back a step.
“Take it to Abby’s then. We should go see her. She’s probably pissed at me on your behalf, right?”
“I can’t. I told you she’s gone—both of them.”
“What do you mean gone? Will you let me in? It’s raining out here,” I say, hoping tonight’s drizzle makes me look like a wet dog and tap dances on her sympathy.
“Is anyone else outside?”
“Nope. Just a lonely sucker getting rained on because his girlfriend won’t let him in.” I try smiling at her again.
No dice.
If it weren’t for the rain, I think her hate-glare would’ve set me on fire by now.
“Huh. How many idiots are out there with you?”
“One? I’m the only idiot.” It comes out harsher than I intend.
“Sounds like it. Because your girlfriend would let you in, and I’m not her.”
I shake my head. “C’mon, Reese, no word games. Let me make this right. And what happened to Millie—”
Right.
The door slams an inch in front of my face.
Do I give up for tonight?
On cue, the rain picks up, bleeding through my shirt and freezing me to the bone. I don’t move.
I’m contemplating my Navy training—all the ways I could infiltrate her apartment—when the door finally opens a foot.
The warmth of Reese’s apartment wafts around me as she shoves it open, unseen.
“Get in here, or don’t,” she says.
I start to step inside.
She puts up a hand. “Wait.”
She takes the flowers from my hand and hurls them over my shoulder, where they land with a thunk in the parking lot.
Yeah. We’re off to a fabulous start.
She waves her hand at the cotton candy with disgust. “I guess that junk is technically food. Give it to the first homeless person you see.”
“Where’s Millie?” I try again.
Sighing, she steps aside and lets me in, shutting the door behind me.
“Witness protection with her mother. They’re not supposed to contact me until it’s over,” she says.
“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry.” I didn’t see that coming, but I should have. “So, you’ve been completely alone.”
“Since when does my loneliness matter?” Her eyes narrow.
“Were you going to tell me?”
She throws her head back and groans like I’ve just vomited on her shoes.
“Who else did she tell?” Reese asks quietly, her chest rising and falling.
It takes me a second to realize she knows that I know.
Shit. This is not how I wanted this to go.
“Ward and Grandma. Paige didn’t tell me if you’re worried about that—”
“Beatrice did. Got it.” She pauses, refusing to meet my eyes. “Nick, you’re off the hook. Just get the hell out of here.”
I take a step forward. “You think I don’t want you?”
Her eyes tear up and she turns away.
Goddamn, my name is mud.
“No. I don’t want a man who was ready to abandon ship until he found out he knocked me up,” she flings back.
Fucking ouch.
“That’s not why I’m here, and you know it,” I say quietly. “I told you, I’m sorry. Pregnant or not, I would’ve come to my senses sooner or later. I just needed time to—”
“Bullcrap. That’s exactly why you’re here,” she cuts in. “Granny Bea told you, and you had to come stroke your guilty conscience. I don’t need your pity or your money, Nick. I don’t need you for...for anything.”
