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He leans forward and puts his hand over mine. “I fucked up the best thing that ever happened to me.”
I flinch, surprised at the words, but I snatch away my hand. He’s the one that broke us up.
“You must also be mad at yourself, then.” I go back to my drink.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m not doing this right.”
“What are you not doing right?”
He gestures between us. “This. I want to talk. Can I show you something?”
I flip my palm in question.
“I want to show you the house.”
“Your house?” What the fuck? Is he serious right now? Does he think all he has to do is give me a sad story and I’ll drop my panties for him?
He places his hands in front of me. “Not like that, Saona. Come on. That’s not all we had. We were so much more… I just want you to see what I’ve done. I’ve made strides and you were always supportive. I also want to talk.”
I’m a little embarrassed by my jumping to conclusions. I do want to see the house and we shouldn’t talk here. It’s his job.
“Okay. We can go to your house. But I’ll drive myself there.”
Because if he pisses me off, I’m driving myself straight back to New York and then heading to DR for the holidays with my sister.
