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I blink back and swallow, not liking the sound of that one bit.
She pops the handle on my door and climbs off my lap, leaving me with a massive hard-on and a million questions.
Chicken Salad squeaks the toy, and I spring off my seat. Forgot she was back there. I remove my seatbelt and exit the vehicle in a daze, opening the rear door for the dog to jump out.
“What the hell is going on in your mom’s head?”
She was a relationship girl when we met. Did I get so wrapped up in corrupting her, fucking her in all the ways she’s never had, that I pushed her too far? That she’ll consider nothing more with me? I’m not great at admitting when I’m wrong, but when it comes to Jordan, I was an absolute fucking idiot for telling her we could never be more.
I’d planned to bring it up on the drive home, but sheseemed so detached, I got cold feet. It’s time for me to step up and become the man she deserves.
After chatting with the guys in Vancouver, it’s been rolling around in my brain, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m as bad as Barrett—I’m a total fucking simp for her. And I want to do everything I can to make her happy enough to stay. Forever.
42
I’m in my room responding to emails, mostly documents against Bryan, screenshots of his text messages. My lawyer is asking for information regarding the way our funds were shared. We’ve got a meeting later today with Robert, my finance manager. Bryan and his lawyer are being difficult, getting him removed from my bank accounts was a pain in the ass. He’s not making anything easy.
I didn’t tell them about Bluetower, the company H&H took on, the one they’ve been touting to investors with lucrative returns that aren’t possible. It’s my golden ticket to fucking up his life. Unfortunately, the way I obtained my information isn’t exactly on the up and up—and Bryan has always been good about covering his tracks. He’s brazen but always has a backup plan.So I’m leaving no trace as well.
The next order of business is getting my own place. Now that I’ve got money in my account from some of my investments, and lawyers are in place to get the rest, it’s time I sit down with Cam and explain that I’m safe enough to moveout. This isn’t the time for us. Maybe someday we’ll get our chance.
As I hit send, there’s a knock on my door. I open it and see Cam standing there shirtless with a pair of scissors, clippers, and half a head of cut hair. Oh god.
“Can you cut hair?”
As a teenager, I used to cut my grandfather’s hair when he was in hospice, but that was a decade ago. I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe with an amused smile. “What happened?”
“I got an email from PR, they want us cleaned up for some photoshoot later this week. I was feeling lazy and overestimated my skill level by about two and a half barbers.”
“Come on in.” I push off the door. Stealing a chair from the table in the kitchen of the apartment space, I place it in the bathroom in front of the large mirror. It’s a tight fit for him to sit down, but we make it work.
I place a towel around his neck, and my fingers skim his shoulders. It reminds me of all the times I’ve grabbed his shoulders before.
“So, what are we doing today?” I jest.
“You’re giving me the best haircut I’ve ever had.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Let’s set some realistic expectations.”
“I’m getting a haircut from the hottest stylis?—”
I turn on the clippers, drowning him out. He bites his lip, and my cheeks flush. First, I even out the damage he’s done and clean it up. My gaze bounces back and forth from his reflection in the mirror to him in front of me, focusing on making sure everything looks uniform. Except for the times my body betrays me and we make eye contact. Because he won’t stop staring.
His gaze makes every inch of me feel alive, and I hate it.It makes my heart ache. My masochism wins out, I know I can’t have him, but I still want his attention, no matter how much it hurts. My stomach twists. I turn off the clippers and set them on the countertop, then pick up the scissors.
“How long do you want it on top?” I hold up some hair between my index and middle fingers. “About here?”
“Yeah, that’s good.”
Normally the silence between us isn’t awkward, but it feels so heavy now. I can’t stand it.
“Oh, I meant to tell you, I’ve decided to spend the holidays with my parents in Monaco.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, I spoke with my mom this morning. They're staying in Cape Martin for a few more months. It doesn’t really make sense for me to stick around here.”
He hums. “Oh. I guess I’d assumed you would come with me to my parents’ again... But I understand you wanting to spend it with your own family. How long will you be gone?”
