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Surprise became shaded with hope. “My place?” She nodded. “Okay.” He breathed. “Thank you, baby. Shit… thank you.”
“I’m making no promises,” she said. “I’ll come over, listen, and if I tell you we’re done… I get ownership of the coffee shop twelve thirty to one thirty.”
His smile twisted her up inside. “Okay. That’s fair. Thank you, Button.”
He tried to touch her again, but she pulled back, showing him a glare before retrieving her coffee. After work. That gave her just a few short hours to come up with something to say.
16
Getting to his front door? Easy peasy. Knocking? Not so easy. She didn’t want to be a liar and had agreed to be there… But she couldn’t do it. How could she go in there, to a happy and safe place, and face his deception?
Alex wasn’t Alex.
Never in all of their association had she experienced hurt like he’d caused her on Saturday night. What was he going to say? How could he explain away his betrayal? What would make it right?
Standing in the hallway wasn’t achieving anything. The quicker she knocked, the quicker she could leave.
She knocked.
That was it. Done.
A flash later, the door opened, and he was there. Phone to his ear. “I’ve gotta go.” Without giving whoever was on the other end time to respond, he hung up. “Hi.”
“I can go,” she said, gesturing back down the hall. “If you’re busy—”
“When the other option is you, I’m never busy,” he said, stepping backward, opening the door further. “Come in.”
Despite being exactly the same, the apartment felt different. Like a new place, not familiar or comforting, but neither was the man closing the door behind her. More starched than usual, his tension was obvious. Did he think she’d go nuts?
If she did, he’d deserve it. But that wasn’t the point.
“So…” she said, taking the strap of her purse off over her head to dump the bag on the counter. “What do you want to say?”
“For starters, thank you for coming,” he said, going to the fridge. “Do you want a drink?”
Yes, like an entire bottle of wine in the next three seconds. “No. I want to get through this and go home.”
“Rainie,” he said, softening. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’ll keep on saying it. I’m sorrier than… I’m sorry.”
“Is that it?” she asked. “You already said that.” Purse in hand, she went for the front door. “I didn’t need to come all the way over here to—”
He intercepted her fingers before they got to the handle. The moment his skin touched hers, she stopped talking. That warmth, that touch, she’d had that for six weeks, had the man she thought he was so close to her and never once considered doubting him.
“Why did you do it?” she asked, blinking her attention from his fingers as they tried to link themselves with hers. “Why me? Why would you lie—”
“I didn’t know,” he said, surprising her. “I didn’t know about the phone call the day we met. I didn’t find out you thought that… I didn’t know until the day Lance showed up here.” She frowned. “When I came back, and you were here with him… I didn’t know until after you walked out.”
“You didn’t know?” she asked. He shook his head. “Who is Lance?”
“A friend. We’ve known each other for years. He’s an idiot. But… he didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m not making excuses for him, but he didn’t know how I felt about you. How could he have known?”
When he took her hand, she was too immersed in trying to figure things out to object. “So he just goes around lying to random women about you and you’re okay with that?”
“No, I’m not okay with it. I haven’t spoken to him since he left here. I can’t stand to hear his voice. I want to fucking tear him apart.”
One of his oldest friends, and he’d cut him out. What should she do? What should she say? What did it all mean?
At a careful pace, Alex drew her away from the door, over to the couch. She dumped her purse on the kitchen island as they passed. If they were going to talk, really talk, it made sense for them to sit down and figure it out.
