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“Yeah, but she somehow missed just how much her friend was into her… and managed to convince herself that she wasn’t insanely attracted to him.”
“It’s the money,” he said at the same time his phone rang on the kitchen counter. “Does it every time.”
He got up to go over and grab the phone, leaving her there stupefied. Money? The goddamn money? Either he was right, and she was disgusting and shallow, or he was wrong and had basically just called her a hooker. That’s what prostitutes did, they slept with men who paid them.
Standing, she got moving, knowing exactly where she was going: home.
She sailed straight on past him, opened the front door, and walked out.
Prick.
“Rainie?” he called after her, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Without slowing, she raised her hand above her head to show him the finger.
Money?
Asshole.
At the top of the stairs, she yanked her shoes off one after the other. With the crazy heels on, and being wound up, she’d fall down them for sure if she didn’t lose the platforms. She got down one flight before he caught up with her.
“Baby?” he said, trying to get hold of her. She whipped her arm out of his reach. “What happened? Where are you going?”
“Turns out there was an option three after all,” she said, focusing on the stairs. “I’m going home, and you can go fuck yourself.”
“What? What did I…? Shit.”
Smart man. Yeah, he figured it out just a little too late. When he stopped descending with her, she put a flight between them. Then his footsteps started again overhead.
“Button,” he said, catching up. “I’m sorry. It just came out. With Lance in my head, I—”
“You can’t blame him for this. You did this one all on your own. Congratulations! You just learned the fastest way to fuck up a relationship. You managed to end it before it even began. Well done.”
“Stop,” he said, pulling her to a halt when they reached the foyer. “Rainie, I’m sorry.”
With the stairs in her past, she bent to put on one shoe, then the other. “You know what, Xander?” she asked, slapping a much less aware hand to his chest. “You can have women far more beautiful and glamorous than me use you for money. Go find yourself a woman with nothing better to do than spend all day at a spa in anticipation of spending a night with you. Find one of those perfect Vogue models. Give her access to credit, buy her a big house, and knock her up so she’s guaranteed hefty child support after the divorce. Really, you’ll be much happier if we all descend to meet your expectations.”
“Rainie,” he said, catching her arm before she could walk away. “I’m sorry.”
Once again, he was contrite, and she was mad. It was becoming habit. In his defense, he could only base assumptions on experience. Their worlds were polar opposite.
She sighed, conceding a little. “Don’t be. You have experience, I guess you can spot a gold digger on sight. I’m new to this; maybe the money does matter to me. Maybe it did make a difference. I never thought cash mattered to me… maybe what you see in me is right. Whatever it is, it’s too complicated. I don’t want complicated. I promised myself I’d tell you if it became something I can’t get over. It’s too much. I didn’t want it to be, but it is.” She licked her drying lips, grabbing for her resolve. “Stay away from me, Xander Gauge.”
His hand drifted from her arm as she strode away. Damn complications. The relationship she wanted wasn’t supposed to be difficult. It was supposed to be smooth. Easy. Natural.
For a hot second there, she’d wanted Xander to be it. Shame nothing with him was simple. Maybe he was right to suspect her because she wasn’t the woman for him. One way or the other, there was no denying that anymore.
21
The coffee shop was a blip in her past. Over and done with. She got through an entire week without going anywhere near it or Xander’s place.
Yeah, okay, maybe it wasn’t a major achievement. He’d called about fifteen times in the hours after she left his apartment, so she’d blocked his number. Making him a blip too. Cutting ties was the easiest way to forget about him.
That was all she had to do.
Forget.
Every step counted.
