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Until he says, “I’m sorry.”
I blink.
It’s so abrupt my hand drops, the sandwich wrap crinkling as it lands on the blanket.
“Huh?” I don’t understand.
This time, August’s sigh is more patient. He’s still giving me that hangdog look, but at least he’s looking at me.
“I said I’m fucking sorry,” he repeats. “We did something without thinking. And then, instead of talking to you about it, I shut you out and left you flapping in the breeze for days.” There’s a hint of scorn and disgust in his voice, and I think it’s directed at himself. “I shouldn’t have treated you that way.”
My mouth opens and shuts.
My heart does that weird compacting thing again, but I don’t know if it’s relief or fresh hurt coming up as I remember that night, or—
“Why did you?” I ask.
“Because I’m an idiot, Elle. I panicked,” August retorts bluntly. “When I don’t know what to do, I shut people out.”
“Asshole move,” I quip.
“Yes, I’m aware. I’ve been trying to figure out how to address it all week.”
I blink at him again.
Then I throw the sandwich at him. “Not by ignoring me, dude!”
“Hey!” August’s arms come up. The sandwich bounces off them and lands next to the basket. “I deserved that, but why waste good food?”
“Asshole,” I repeat. “Stupid, awkward asshole.”
“Yeah,” he grunts, hanging his head. “The kids would say, ‘I never figured out how to people.’”
“I’ve kinda figured that out by now,” I huff, folding my arms over my chest and looking away. “Asshole.”
“You don’t have to forgive me, Elle. That’s not what I’m asking for.”
I shrug one shoulder, turning my nose up. “It’s not like we’re really dating. You can’t exactly break my heart.”
I’m such a bad liar.
“I suppose that’s good news,” he says, sounding dejected.
God, I really wasn’t far off the mark when I compared him to an angry outcast boy.
Grown-ass man can handle global billion-dollar business matters but can’t handle talking about his emotions.
... but I guess I’m not being much better, huffing and puffing at him, all up in my wounded feels. He did apologize before I had to ask for an apology. That’s more than most men give.
I try to relent a little.
“August?” Exhaling, I glance back at him.
“Yeah?” There’s the puppy dog again. Head coming up, ears practically pricking. Never would have imagined this the first time I met him.
Dammit. I can’t stay mad at this absolute grumpy goober of a man.
But I will not let him make my heart flutter.
