AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He eyed her, unsure of how to play this. Clearly, she was out to have all the fun she could, and it wasn’t as if he could stop her. But he couldn’t help that he didn’t like the idea of Samantha going away, all made-up with the long eyelashes and the pouty lips, to find some “strong drinks and big dicks.” Sure, it was all bachelorette fun, but…
“Is somebody jealous?” she teased.
“No.”
She tilted her head back and forth flirtatiously. “Sounds like you are.”
He hated that he was and that she could tell.
“I’m not.” He pushed away his half-eaten muffin. “I don’t care what you do. It’s not like we’re together or anything.”
The smile fell from her lips as her eyes dipped down to where her index finger scratched at a dent in the table, and he immediately felt like an asshole. He’d been in a foul mood because of his business stuff, and the LA thing put him over the edge. “I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t—”
“It’s fine.” She took a breath and lifted her head, meeting his eyes straight on. “You’re right. We’re not together, so… You’re right.” She lifted her shoulder as she stood up, but because he was also an idiot besides simply being an asshole, he didn’t know how to fix this. “I gotta go. Laundry’s calling.”
He mumbled a few words of apology and a goodbye as Samantha grabbed her things. She didn’t look at him as she looped her purse over her arm, and for once, he was happy for her to go. He needed some time to himself and let her walk away.
* * *
Sam hungup her new dress next to her trusty old black cocktail dress. The sparkly gold number wasn’t something she’d normally choose, but when the girls had texted pictures of what they were packing, she had decided to step up her fashion game. Looking at it now, though, she second-guessed herself. It was loose-fitting with geometric patterned sequins, yet even the 1980s genesis of Cher would find the hemline risqué.
Then again, they were going out in LA. It wouldn’t bethatscandalous.
With a shake of her head, she took both dresses off the hangers and folded them into her suitcase. “You can decide later,” she said to herself, kneeling on the floor to fold up a few tops and jeans and approximately a dozen pair of underwear. “It’s three days, you maniac. You’re morphing into Bronte—”
“Do you have an imaginary friend I don’t know about?”
A gasp leaped from Sam’s throat as she dropped back on her butt in fright, spying her intruder. “Mike.” She sagged in relief. “I didn’t hear you make a sound.”
He didn’t move from his stance, leaning against her doorframe. “Good to know I’m still as stealthy with half a robot leg.”
She refused to smile at his attempt at a joke and moved back to her position at her suitcase, double-checking her toiletries. She wasn’t purposely ignoring him—she couldn’t, not with his large presence—but she didn’t want to give him any more attention. Not after yesterday.
She hadn’t meant to go and catch feelings for him, but she couldn’t pretend this was her usual habit. Mike was unlike any other guy she’d ever been with, and the time they spent together wasn’t purely physical. They had opened up to each other and took turns showing off the broken and jagged bits of their hearts before sewing themselves back together with kisses and caresses. Despite how hard she’d tried, she had let her guard down and he’d practically waltzed inside, so for him to be so flippant was hurtful.
Even if she didn’t want it to be. Even if she knew that this tiny pain now would be a whole lot worse in a few weeks.
“How’d you get in here?” she asked, keeping her attention on her suitcase.
“Your dad.”
Ugh, the traitor.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” She still refused to look at him, fearful of giving herself away. She already gave too much, thinking she could kiss him and keep her feelings separate. But that was idiotic. To her, Mike hung the moon and stars, he always had and maybe he always would, but he could also wound her. Yesterday proved it.
“Here,” he said, dropping a plastic bag at her feet as he sat down across from her. “I thought you might need it for your trip.”
She held up the small bottle. “Sunscreen?”
“Heard it’s pretty sunny over there.”
“Thank you.” She tucked it away and reluctantly met his eyes. Eyes that were so much softer today than yesterday.
“I came to apologize.”
She tried to glance away, find solace somewhere else, but something in his gaze held her, called to her. “For what? There’s nothing to apologize for.” The words didn’t feel right on her tongue, but she didn’t want to lose any more of herself to him. To this. And when he shook his head, ready to dispute her, she stopped him. “You said it, and you’re right. We’re not together. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
