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“What do you mean you can’t believe it’s her?” Maeve’s heart rate galloped.
He opened his mouth to reply then seemed to think better of what he was going to say.
The smile he offered was lopsided, more like the AJ she’d fallen in love with. Her racing heart veered right off the track. Yeah, there was no way he was unhappy with bombshell Denise Walters. The woman was walking sex and sin, and AJ was walking orgasms and bliss. Denise was tall, blonde, stacked, and a bitch. AJ was tall, hard, gorgeous, and so, so sweet. Physically, they were the perfect match of beauty and build. Their hearts, though…. But maybe AJ didn’t care about the heart. He’d taken one look at Denise and believed her bullshit about being Swan. Even after all the pieces of her heart and soul that Maeve had shared via email, AJ was too blinded by perky tits and pouty lips to realize that Denise couldn’t possibly be Swan.
Don’t blame him for this! This is all your fault. You should have just grown a pair of lady balls and told him the truth from the beginning.
No. She couldn’t be angry at AJ for choosing Denise over the shadow of an outline of an idea of feelings he might have for Maeve.
But there was nothing Maeve could say or do without hurting everyone she cared about.
And if you say nothing, the man you love will end up married to a greedy harpy.
Lose-lose. No matter what she died, she was lost.
AJ’s humorless chuckle wrung Maeve from the tumble of her thoughts.
“I mean that I can’t believe she’s actually real, and that I can finally be with her,” he remarked. “Yeah. Totally unreal, ya know?”
Yes. Unreal. Unbelievable. Unfathomable.
Striding by the kitchen peninsula, AJ glanced down then seemed to freeze in place. As she watched, he turned toward the counter, peering down at the crap from her purse. What? Did she forget there was a tampon in there?
He reached out and picked up one of the five tubes of Chapstick from the clutter.
Lifting it to his face, he sniffed it.
Uh…what?
“What are you doing?” she asked, truly and utterly puzzled about his fascination with her lip balm.
Without turning to her, his voice low and flat, he murmured, “Cherry.”
Huh?
“Yeah. I think that one’s the Cherry Vanilla Coke one Callie sent me as a stocking stuffer last Christmas. She sent me a whole pack of them.” She cocked her head, suddenly anxious. “Why?”
“Do you…do you wear it often?” What was with the questions about her lip moisturizer?
“Uh…yeah. It’s my favorite. Is there a reason you’re so curious about my choice of Chapstick?”
“You don’t wear it at the office,” he observed.
“With all the coffee I drink, I don’t bother. I just comes off on the cup.”
“Coffee…” he muttered, his body stiff. She tensed in response, unsure where this was all going.
“Uh…I use those mocha chocolate coffee packs from Swiss Miss.” His body jerked as if she’d hit him.
“Why?” she asked, suddenly wary.
Instead of answering her question, he simply put the Chapstick back on the counter, shook his head, and continued on his way out of her apartment.
No other words were exchanged.
Not even goodbye.
Flummoxed, Maeve stared at the closed door for long minutes, trying to wrap her head around AJ’s visit, his questions, and that thing about her Chapstick.
