Awareness prickled through me. Someone was in the house.
“Hello?” I called.
“I’m in here,” Clay answered back.
What the hell?
He was in the kitchen, wearing jeans and a fitted polo shirt, reminding me of the preppy guys I used to gravitate toward years ago in high school. But in contrast to his look, he was stooped down with a drill in one hand and appeared to be working on a sliding drawer inside one of his cabinets. When I entered, he set down the drill on top of the newly installed counter with a thud, rose, and turned to face me.
His expression was guarded and unreadable.
It was stunning to see him when it was the middle of the week, and he hadn’t mentioned yesterday he was coming back. My breath caught seeing him. Not just because he looked so good, but at the realization it meant we could talk truly face to face.
My throat was tight with anxiety. “What are you doing home?”
He gazed at me for a long moment and stood absolutely still, making awareness tingle in me once more.
Finally, he spoke. “I told my team I had an emergency and needed a couple days.”
Oh. No.
He knew.
SEVENTEEN
Guilt drove my gaze to the floor, and I stared intently at the drill Clay had abandoned there.
“A drawer’s not that urgent,” I attempted to joke, but my voice lost power as I went. “It probably could have waited.”
“Lilith.”
He said it in the same tone he used when he told me to look at him. I dragged my gaze up, dreading the hurt or anger I deserved to find in him, but it wasn’t there. His face remained an emotionless mask.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. Remorse was a thick lump in my throat, making it hard to swallow. “When did Travis tell you?”
He flinched at hearing Travis’s name come out of my mouth. “He didn’t.”
It was like it was suddenly too difficult to look at me and he turned slightly, blinking against the sensation.
“Then—” I started, confused.
“I saw you two on the cameras.”
I’d completely forgotten about them, and—oh, God—now I felt even worse. I flattened a hand to my chest as if I could smother the guilt raging through me. Hearing about what we’d done was bad enough. Witnessing it was extra cruel.
“I stopped watching,” he added quietly, “once it was clear what was going to happen.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated.
He shook his head and his gaze returned to me. His expression finally had an emotion, but it wasn’t anger or jealousy or sadness. It looked like shame.
“It wasn’t your fault, Lilith,” he said. “It was mine.”
His admission was jarringly the same as Travis’s had been, and kind of ridiculous. Why was it both men wanted to take complete responsibility for my actions? “What are you talking about?”
He took a tentative step my direction, closing some of the space between us. “I kept you siloed off from each other, and I tried to do the same with the way I felt about you, but I . . . got jealous.” He took another step, moving closer still. “So, then I overcorrected, and I pushed you toward him.”
My heart stumbled and beat faster. Was that true? Clay knew how curious I was, and Travis said he felt like we’d been set up to fail.
“I convinced myself I wanted it to happen,” he said. “Once I saw you two together, I thought it’d—I don’t know—cure me of the way I was feeling.” He made a face like he thought in hindsight the idea was stupid. “Or maybe I’d see how badly I was standing in the way.”
I licked my dry lips, unsure of what to say, but thankfully he wasn’t finished.
“In a way, it did both.” He lifted a hand, and I stood utterly still as he cupped the back of my neck and gently drew me toward him until I was only a breath away. “You like him,” he said softly, “and that’s okay.”
I let out a tight breath. “I like you too, though. And . . . I really like what we have.” My voice fell to a whisper. “I’m terrified of losing it and terrified these feelings won’t last.”
Rather than be surprised or disappointed, the corner of his mouth turned up into a pleased and sexy smile. “You’re worried you’re going to get bored?”
He’d said it like it wasn’t possible, but I knew myself. As much as I wanted it to, this feeling wouldn’t last. I’d get through the honeymoon stage of the relationship, and then feel like it’d run its course.
“It always happens,” I said.
His hold on me was stable and supportive and reassuring. “If your feelings are temporary, I’d like to remind you—so is my arrangement with him.”
I frowned. “Is that a threat?”
“What?” He softened. “No, no. I just meant it’s possible your feelings about Travis might go away before my project’s even finished. Or maybe we change our minds about our arrangement with him. It’s not exactly something I can plan.” His eyes deepened, filling with gravity. “I like what we have too, Lilith. Enough to fly home today and try to work this out so I don’t lose you.” His shoulders straightened abruptly because he hadn’t meant to phrase it that way. “So we don’t lose what we have,” he corrected.