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Damn it, she didn’t know the answer. Matt had rocketed out of the house hours ago, and from the moment he left, a hollow numbness settled into the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want to feel anything. Didn’t want to think about what it would be like between them. Didn’t want to think about how he’d rushed off. Didn’t want to think about the fact that the sound of his closing the door behind him had physically hurt her. She had no idea if she would be okay, and all she wanted was her best friend, Matt, to reassure her.
“Hey, I thought you said Matt wasn’t coming tonight.”
Nichole’s heart skipped a beat. She jerked her head up and scanned the crowd for the only face she wanted to see. He was standing at the bar talking to…Peg.
Her stomach lurched into her throat. He’d brought a date to the bar she’d told him she’d be at with Lindy. The very same woman he’d brought back to their townhouse two months ago when he’d wanted to show her there was nothing between them.
“Oh, my God.” It was a repeat of her ultimate humiliation. Not even the names had changed. Rage boiled past her incredible shock. She couldn’t believe it. Matt wasn’t a coward. He wasn’t a bastard. He couldn’t be rubbing another woman in her face because he was too much of a pussy to deal with what had happened between them. But there he was, standing next to that same leggy blond, pretending he had no idea she was watching him.
“Lindy, we’ve got to go.”
“What? We just—”
“Right now.” Her heart ached inside her chest as she spun for the door and bolted back out into the cold.
—
Matt looked up just as his brother, Jack, emerged from the men’s room. “Thanks, Peg. When I saw you over here, I wanted to come over apologize about the way I treated you at the end. There was more to my relationship with Nichole, but I just wasn’t ready to admit it, and I was an ass. I’m sorry.”
Peg held out her slim hand and offered a shake. “Thanks, Matt. I appreciate it. Take care of yourself.”
He dropped a chaste kiss onto her cheek and headed back over to the table he was sharing with his brother.
“Hey, man. Thanks for meeting me out.”
“No, problem. Where’s Nichole tonight?”
Matt shook his head. “Out somewhere with Lindy, I think. She’s the reason I called.”
Jack dropped into his chair and shot Matt an amused look. “So you’re finally looking to your big brother for advice, huh?”
—
Supporting her head in her hands, Nichole stared down at the single sheet of paper and dropped her pen. She pushed back from her desk, took the note, and carried it out to the narrow secretary table in the hall. Her hands trembled as she tented it next to a small porcelain bowl of candy Conversation Hearts.
Lindy had warned her, and she hadn’t listened. She’d been a fool. A stupid fool, ignoring all logic because she couldn’t stand the ache between her legs and the void in her heart any longer. She owned a damn vibrator. So why hadn’t she simply locked herself into her room with it for as long as it took for her to get some of her sense back? She’d pushed Matt into sleeping with her with the promise that it was just sex. But when he stared into her eyes, filling her body with his, she wanted nothing more than to tell him she was hopelessly in love with him. That he had always been the one to hold her heart. She’d ruined every relationship she’d ever attempted because none of the other men were Matt, so none of them would do.
But he didn’t feel the same way about her. And he’d made damn sure she understood that.
It was time for her to face facts. She’d been in denial for far too long. Her destructive actions stood out for the obvious maneuvering they were. She’d moved in with the man she loved, but pretended not to, because she’d have done anything to be close to him. She’d been living a perpetual lie, betraying the honesty and friendship between them she claimed to prize. Demanding they go to bed together, swearing she wouldn’t need more. But it wasn’t true. For all her schemes and grand plans, she knew now that she wouldn’t be okay. Not like this. Not trying to fit back into her lie of a life. She had to get out.
Her stomach was in knots; her throat was tight and burning with the tears she fought to hold back. She reached for the bowl of candy, closed her eyes, and selected a single pastel heart. Holding the sugary sweet up in front of her, she read its message. Friends 4-ever. Of course. Hot tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks, and she hostilely swiped them away with the side of her sleeve.
She had no time to stand around wallowing in self-pity. She needed to get her crap together. She didn’t know when Matt would be back, and she couldn’t bear it if he brought Peg with him. She’d gotten his message loud and clear in the fifteen seconds she’d been inside the bar. Her romantic delusion would have no fairy tale ending. She’d hung onto the fantasy of them getting together for twelve years, and it was time to give it up. If she wanted an honest friendship with Matt, one that wasn’t built around false hope and buried desire, she had to leave. She couldn’t live with him, pretending to be his girlfriend, but with none of the added benefits.
She stooped and picked up a half-packed cardboard box and returned to her room to collect the remaining necess
ities she would take with her.
—
An hour later, Nichole stared at the spray of ice coating the Dumpsters and alley fencing behind the townhouse. She braced herself against the biting cold and clutched the heavy duty trash bag in one bare hand, wondering if she would have to chisel a layer of ice off the lid of the sludge-colored bin in order to be rid of her trash. She was packed and ready to go, and the sooner the better.
She pushed the handle with the back of her hand; the lid lifted an inch, and she let out a relieved burst of frosty breath. Raising the lid, she started to heft her bag into the bin, but stopped short when she saw the contents already there. A dozen red roses, bent and battered, were strewn atop a pile of Chinese carry out boxes and trash already occupying the bottom third of the dumpster. A red, heart-shaped cardboard box with a frilly white lace border had been shoved in on its side and an avalanche of chocolates cascaded over the broken stems and greenish noodles.
A Valentine’s day travesty.
The weight of her bag pulled on her arm, and the sight of cast aside romance did the same to her heart. Unable to bury the roses and chocolate any deeper, she closed the Dumpster and found another bin in which to drop her trash. It was heartbreaking.
