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I should’ve known my little baby cakes would know something was up eventually.
“You’re on a need-to-know basis.”
“I know you did.”
“Then why ask?”
She shakes her head. “It works both ways, Fynn.”
“What does?”
“Honesty.”
“I was worried about you, after what you’d been through…”
She stares at me, as if seeing me with new eyes. I don’t know what that’s all about.
“There are more subtle ways to make sure I’m okay. Paying people to basically stalk me isn’t exactly ethical, Fynn.”
I snort. “When have I ever done anything ethical?”
Her eyes are still teary as she assesses me. “I guess we both made mistakes.”
I don’t like the sound of that. The only mistake I ever made was letting her go…
“Why do I feel like I don’t know you anymore?” The words escape before I can stop them.
Surprise lines her face. “Do you really think that?”
“Don’t you ever think about it?” She knows what I’m referring to.
She looks down at her feet before her hazel eyes meet mine again. “Yes, but we went in opposite directions. Together, we’re a disaster, Fynn. We’ve been there and done that.”
Disappointment kicks me in the gut.
Nobody has the power to hurt me, to really get to me, not like Sage does. Maybe that’s why I’ve always kept women at arm’s length.
“I let you slip away.” My tone is soft, her eyes meeting mine.
She shakes her head. “No, we made that decision together, to go our own separate ways. You had your brothers and the family business, and I needed to go and finish my degree…”
Silence hangs between us.
Why am I bringing all of this back up? I guess after seeing Cameron again, and having just killed him, it stirred up old memories.
“Do you really think we should have this conversation on the front porch?”
I laugh a little. “All right, one nightcap, then I have to get back.”
She opens the door. I’ve been here before, it’s a cute little place not far from her work, and it’s in a nice part of town. She’s done well for herself.
She flicks on a light and drops her bag in the hallway. I follow her down into the kitchen as she turns on more lights as she walks.
“Are we good?” I ask her when she opens the fridge to pull out a bottle of uncorked wine. I lean on the counter surveying her small kitchen. Nothing is out of place.
“We’re good.” She nods, holding up the bottle. “Share a glass with me?”
I shrug. “Why not.”
