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I stomp back into my house, remembering at the last minute to close the door quietly and not disturb Freya before heading straight for the wine in the fridge.
As I sit at the kitchen table with a glass of wine filled to the brim, my shoulders sink. The escalation of that was insane. What did I do?
I’m still having trouble seeing anything to do with us clearly. All I did was express my surprise that he’s nice about me to Penelope. Maybe he hadn’t mentioned me to her before we started bed sharing, though.
His situation might not be like mine, where I often have big, drink-infused rants about him to Imani and Freya.
I take a gulp and wince. The more time I spend around Casper, the less I understand him, and the more I question myself. A pretty face, hot sculpted body, and a big dick does not make a perfect person.
I should be ashamed of myself for forgetting everything he’s done just because he can make me see stars. It’s not worth feeling like this most of the time.
From this moment on, Casper Hart will never see me naked again. I take another gulp of wine, and another, and send an SOS to Aunt Jess. I have to get away from here before I make yet another terrible mistake.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
A day later, armed with a bottle of Prosecco and my event notes – some habits die hard—I’m back in my childhood home, stressing over the fact that it’s not enough. This place is usually a reset. The second I walk back through that door, I’m instantly stronger.
Being farther away from Casper has the opposite effect, though.
I’m absolutely screwed.
Aunt Jess sips her wine and watches me like she has a million things she wants to say. I’ve never been able to hide anything from her, no matter how hard I’ve tried in the past.
After messaging her, she told me to come home straight away and we would figure it out. So, I packed a bag and arrived late last night. She let me go straight to bed, which I was unsure about, but she must’ve noticed my badly concealed teary eyes.
Now we’re sitting in the living room, and I’m starting to feel a little better—as much as I can while Casper and I aren’t okay. I’d stay longer if I could, but finals start next week and then I have the Harts’ event.
I’m surrounded by family and my childhood home. We have pictures on the walls, my life on display from age five to now.
Uncle Bill left fifteen minutes into the discussion of the Casper saga, unable or unwilling to keep up. He said he was meeting some friends for a drink and would order Chinese food for us. I appreciate him making plans on his day off to give me and Jess some space.
Aunt Jess is a romantic at heart, so the fact that Casper and I aren’t together must be killing her, though probably not as much as it is me. She’s told me no less than five times that we’re both being immature.
As if we don’t know that.
“Are you okay? And don’t just tell me you’re fine. I can tell when you’re not.”
She watches me, waiting for me to spill it all. There’s nothing we can’t talk about. She’s been so open with me my whole life. That works against me when there are things I’d rather forget.
Sighing, I say, “Things are so messed up. I wish we could talk without arguing. It’s all we seem capable of doing. I hate him, then the next second, I don’t. It’s like flipping a switch I have no control over. Half the time I’m still trying to catch up.”
“Honey, did you ever really hate him?”
“What?” I blink twice. “Yeah, he was a dick.”
She laughs under her breath. “One you couldn’t stay away from and couldn’t stop interacting with. Call me an old romantic fool, but it sounds like you care about him a lot more than you want to believe.”
“No…”
“It’s okay.”
“No, we genuinely didn’t like each other much.Don’tlike each other much. I thought he was a privileged, womanising arsehole, and he thought I was a stuck-up cow.”
She turns her nose up. “I don’t understand how anyone couldn’t like you.”
“You’re heavily biased.”
“Does the past really matter? Is there something that has happened or been said that you can’t get through?”
