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Wasn’t he listening? She shook her head. Michael was usually such an incredible listener. Usually he got her.
“I don’t want to.” Now she was the one sounding petulant. She lay back against the couch, staring at the polish on her toes. Bright red with a hint of maroon. The shade was good on her.
“Okay, then, don’t.”
“I’m not.”
That was it. She was done talking to him about it. He knew she’d made the choice. She had someone to answer to so she wouldn’t get weak and change her mind in the moment.
“I’m glad.” Did he sound relieved?
Kacey sat up. “You are?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it against her bones as she leaned forward.
“You didn’t sound ready.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“If you felt so strongly about it, why didn’t you say something sooner?” She’d given him opportunity that morning.
“I didn’t feel strongly about it.” He was tense again. She needed to get to whatever it was that was eating at him today. Fearing that it might be bad news about her photographer, she pushed the thought away for another couple of seconds. “Your choices are yours to make,” he added.
“As my friend, one I trust, you’re supposed to tell me what you think. Just like I tell you what I think about things you do or should do.”
She did. Every single time they got together. Like when she’d told him that he should ask out one of the ex-residents of the Stand whom he’d befriended. He’d insisted that he was just helping her get her computer system set up, but Kacey had thought there was more. It turned out the woman had a boyfriend already, but how was Kacey to know that?
She’d also told him he should have his family over for dinner—all of them together—and if he’d do that, they’d start to accept that he was absolutely fine. She’d offered to help him prepare the dinner—and to skedaddle if he didn’t want her around.
He’d said he’d think about that one—and had been thinking for about two months now.
“I can’t pretend to know what’s best for you,” he said now. “And I’m not going to be responsible for you making a decision that ultimately results in disaster.”
“Phaw!” she spat and immediately wiped her bottom lip and chin so as not to muss her makeup. “You know me better than most of my friends, Michael.” There was passion in her tone, but then she was still at work. She just hadn’t turned it off yet.
And his comment had hurt her.
“It’s not like I’m some bimbo who’s going to blindly do whatever you say, oh, master,” she continued on. “But hearing an opinion I trust, having it to mull over, as I consider what to do, is something I want. Something I thought you and I had going on...”
“Point taken.”
Good.
“I think Bo might break up with me.”
“I doubt it.”
Okay, then. He’d meant it when he said he got her point. Grinning, regardless of the fact that they were discussing such a serious topic, she asked, “Why do you say that?”
“You look in a mirror lately, Kace?” His droll tone ran down inside her to places Michael wasn’t supposed to go. And on those rare occasions when he did, she quickly pushed those feelings away.
“You think Bo’s superficial,” she guessed.
“I have no idea if he is or not. But I know you’re smart and funny and kind. You’re a rush to be around. You bring life to any party—and you said he likes to party. You’re also beautiful and successful and famous and rich and...”
Kacey reached for her water bottle and almost dropped it. She hadn’t realized she was trembling.
