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Her cheeks grow pink, and even from the side, I can see her give him her polite, composed smile. “Yeah, maybe.”
Relief hits me hard. She doesn’t want to go out with him again. Thank fuck.
Ben kisses her on the cheek, and I have to clench my jaw and swallow back the aggressive sound that wants to escape when his lips touch her skin. But then he walks away and she turns to me. The second her gaze connects with mine, Ben is forgotten.
There’s that fire I love so much. That passion.
I’ll process the change I’m feeling when it comes to her later when I’m alone. Right now, I’m just going to enjoy being near my best friend after three days apart and living in limbo, unsure if I’d be able to convince her to fight for our friendship. To fight for me.
But I know we’ll be okay. Because even if she wants to give up, I’ll never stop fighting for her.
My life is nothing without her in it. And I’ll take her any way I can.
She huffs in exasperation and then opens her door and walks in, leaving it open for me to follow. I close it behind me and watch her, my gaze tracing every inch of her as she puts down her keys and purse on the side table and then slips out of her heels. She closes her eyes in bliss as her toes flex and then wanders over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water before moving to the couch. She tucks her legs under her as she sits, getting comfortable, and only then does she finally look at me.
Her lips part momentarily, and I wonder what she sees in my eyes to get that reaction from her. Can she see the desire that’s pulsing just underneath the surface? The sudden and intense hunger? I hope not. I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t trust me if I confessed to feeling more than friendly feelings for her. She’d think I was doing it so she couldn’t push me away.
So I reel in the new, confusing feelings swirling inside me and sit down on the other side of her couch. I spin so I’m facing her and then pause when I see the hurt look on her face. There’s still anger too, but I can read Laney like the most interesting book in the world. And I can recognize hurt in her gaze.
“Why were you on a date with that guy?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you confessed that you were in love with me only three days ago and now you’re on a date with another guy?” I can’t hide the accusation in my tone, but hopefully it covers the hurt buried underneath.
Her cheeks flush. “Are you fucking serious right now? I told you I needed space. And if I recall correctly, when I told you about my feelings, you completely ignored them and had the audacity to ask me to be your fake girlfriend.”
I stare at her, at a loss for words. She’s not wrong. I can admit I didn’t exactly handle that situation well, but I’m still trying to fully wrap my head around her confession—hell, about my own emerging feelings that I’m starting to realize have been under the surface for a lot longer than I wanted to admit.
Apparently I’m silent too long because she rolls her eyes, shoves off the couch, and stomps back to the door before ripping it open. “Can we make this the last time you show up on my doorstep unannounced? I need space to think, Dom. And you need to leave. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
“And how long will that be?” I ask as I stand up, not wanting to leave but also not wanting to piss her off even more.
Her eyes turn sad for a moment, and my gut clenches even as a sharp pain jabs my heart. “I don’t know,” she says, her voice low and losing the anger and frustration. But then she rolls her shoulders back and gestures for me to leave.
I don’t know what to do, so I do what she’s asking and walk out. But I stop as soon as I get to the threshold and look down at her, capturing her gaze and hoping she can see all the sincerity in mine.
“You’re the only person in my life who matters, Laney. I’ll prove it to you.”
And then I leave, feeling even more unsure about where we stand than I was when I came here.
Nine
I lean back on my stool to get a better look of the painting on my easel. I lift what’s left of my glass of wine—okay, it’s my second—and take a sip, staring at the piece before me.
“Holy shit,” Tessa murmurs next to me. Her eyes are glued to my painting, her own paintbrush held frozen in her hand. “Why the hell are you a data analyst when you can paint like that?”
She acts almost offended and I fight hard not to laugh. This isn’t the first time we’ve come to Paint & Pinot, or the first time she’s been awed by how my painting turned out.
“Okay, but seriously. I know you always brush me off, but come on.” She gestures to my painting. “You could sell that for thousands. You’re that good. Why would you want to be stuck in a stuffy corporate office?”
I put my paintbrush down and take another sip of my wine. “I’m good at my job.”
It’s a weak excuse, which is only confirmed when Tessa arches her brow in a get real look. The truth is a lot more complicated, but the wine has loosened my inhibitions enough that I open up to her, sharing something only Dom knows.
“When my dad died, my mom fell apart. I think he was the only man she’s ever loved.” It’s a big reason I haven’t cut her out of my life. I get why she is the way she is—it’s her protective mechanism. She became a shallow version of herself and goes through men like bubble gum because it keeps her from getting her heart too broken. The problem is Mom doesn’t just keep her men at arm’s length, but everyone, me included.
“She’d also relied on him for everything, which hadn’t seemed like a big deal when I was little, but after he died, she struggled a lot financially, until one day, about a year after my dad died, she just flipped the switch. It was like the one-year mark came and she turned off her grief, but in doing so her entire personality changed. She started dating super-rich guys. I didn’t even know how she was meeting them because we lived in a small town, but then I figured out she’d befriended someone who lived in one of the wealthier towns about an hour away. They’d basically hunt down these rich, eligible bachelors to provide for them. These guys would wine and dine her, buy her extravagant gifts, and she grew really accustomed to that lifestyle, but it wasn’t one she knew how to replicate without them, so she got stuck in this vicious cycle of dependency. Now, she’s completely reliant on whichever man she’s dating. She has nothing for herself. If they drop her, she’s scrambling to find the next one to provide for her. I watched her do this enough times that I promised myself I’d never rely on a man to provide for me, which meant finding a stable job.”
