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She couldn’t do it.
She had to do it.
God help her, she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to hide Stella until he was gone and never tell either of them. There were moments when she truly thought it would be best for Stella. She was petrified at the thought of the changes wealth would bring to her daughter’s perspectives.
And yet, did she have a choice?
Nolan was Stella’s father. She was already a Fortune. Nothing was going to change that.
Chapter Eight
Nolan played his set on Sunday night, pouring his frustration into music that, when he closed his eyes, took him to a place where he was real.
But he was constantly searching the room for the woman who had the power to ruin him. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his system.
Even with all of the tension his lies had caused between them, he’d been happier with her than he was apart.
Monday morning, lying in bed, he told himself that he had to let it go. Let her go. Showered and dressed in the jeans he wanted to wear, he called off of breakfast with his bandmates and headed away from the hotel. He walked with purpose.
He ended up at Lizzie’s door in near-record time. They had ten days. Maybe, with truth standing between them, they wouldn’t enjoy each other as much. Wouldn’t even like each other. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him again, in spite of the unfinished business that had prompted her to call him the day before.
After the concert in the park he’d had to head back to the hotel, to get ready for a short rehearsal and then dinner before the night’s gig. There’d been no time for closure.
He’d bent to kiss her cheek. She’d turned at just that moment, probably to say goodbye, and their lips had met. Clearly an accident. They’d both pulled back at once.
But his appetite had been whetted.
Based on the confused and longing look in her gaze, hers had, too.
Staring up at her window now, he told himself he was being a fool. He thought of Molly, of all that he’d learned, the pain he had to avoid, for both him and Lizzie.
But she’d called him out on the way he’d taken the choice from her the year before, when he made the decision to cut them off from each other without telling her why. Without giving her half the choice. If she wanted another ten days, if she needed them anywhere nearly as badly as he did, did he have the right to refuse her? Didn’t he owe her?
He took a step up the walk toward her front door.
They could have a no-sex rule. Just be friends. With each other. And with the truth.
Uh-huh. They could try.
Confidence filled him as he knocked. The worst she could do was tell him to leave.
And then he’d be free.
Yes. At peace with his decision, he knocked a second time. Her car was in the lot and schools were closed for Christmas break, so she should be home. She could be in the shower.
He could have called but he’d purposely chosen not to. He needed to see her face-to-face. Either to say goodbye or another hello.
The lock on the door clicked, and he stepped back, a smile on his face. Lizzie, in gray sweats and a wrinkled T-shirt, slipped outside, leaving him barely a glimpse of the home he’d been so completely comfortable in the year before.
“Nolan! You can’t keep just stopping by like this.”
Not, “You have to leave.” Or even, “Why are you here?”
With a shrug, he shoved his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans so that he didn’t do something stupid like reach out to run them over her lips. “I can go away and call if you want. I wondered if you’d like to have lunch? Anywhere you choose.” It was the Nolan Fortune way. “Seriously, I’d like to spoil you like crazy.” Take her shopping. Buy her whatever she wanted. Because he hadn’t been able to do so the year before.
Because she deserved the best of whatever she wanted.
“I can’t. I have to get back in,” she said, glancing back at the door. “I, uh, have a bath running.”
