I press my fingers to my chest as I walk into the breakroom. Is this what heartbreak feels like? Shit. No wonder people swear off love.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap at Wren when I see him heading into his office.
“Whitney is in California visiting her friend Sarah,” he says with a shrug, ignoring my attitude as if he expected me to have one. “I’m bored. Figured I’d get caught up on some work.”
“You look like shite,” Finn says from the couch.
I flip him the bird. It’s the usual fuckers in the breakroom. Besides Wren, all of us men without significant others are here. I go ahead and give Brooks and Kit a middle finger just because, before sitting down on the couch.
“Why does it look like you lost a fight with a college douche?” Brooks asks.
“Family flag football,” I say, looking down at myself. I probably should’ve gone home and changed.
I know I still have the scent of Leighton’s body on my skin. Forgetting about her will be easier the sooner I can get that done.
For all his talk about getting some work done, Wren takes a seat on one of the sofas.
“How was Lala’s party?” the computer nerd asks.
I look over at him, wondering how long it’s going to take him to ask about Leighton.
“It was good.”
“Will it be just a fall wedding, or a fall-themed wedding?”
I glare at Wren, but his eyes are on his phone.
The other guys look between us, confused, and this is how it goes. Wren doesn’t spill the tea until the tea has elsewhere been spilled.
The huge television screen on the far wall changes from the news that’s always on to an image taken from the party, and as much as I want to snap at Wren to take it down before the other guys can see it, I can’t seem to manage to open my mouth. No wonder my family is already in love with the woman. They’re only feeding off of what they were getting from us. As I look at the picture, I notice that it’s not just me, but her as well. She was feeling some sort of way about me in that moment. It’s in the angle of her face, the look in her eyes as she gazed back up at me, the soft smile on her lips. She’s even up on the tips of her toes as if she needed her face just a little closer to mine as we swayed to the soft instrumental music playing on the speakers.
My left hand is on the curve of her ass, and I can almost feel the softness of that sundress even now, hours later. My other hand rests softly on her jawline, my thumb tracing her chin. We look like soulmates with the sun high above us and my mother’s flowers creating the perfect backdrop for two people in love.
“Fuck, man,” Brooks says as he turns and looks at the television. “Not you, too.”
The woman talked about getting married, having my babies. I didn’t freak out then, and even after what happened earlier in the hotel room, I’m not freaking out now. I don’t want to run away and disappear. I don’t want to laugh it off and pretend the conversation didn’t happen. If she hadn’t told me that Lala said some shit about deflowering her when I’ve spent so much time inside of her already—throwing that conversation in a different direction—maybe I could’ve mentioned it then, and things would be different right now.
Coming home to Leighton every night isn’t close to the worst thing that could happen to me. If anything, I think I’d enjoy it. She’s easy to talk to. She’s fun as hell in bed. She’s got a quick smile. She’s smart, caring. Lala likes her. I wanted to punch Tyler in the throat just for looking at her. Hell, I wanted to kick Dad’s feet out from under him when he kissed the back of her hand, and I know that man is dedicated to my mother.
I felt all of that. I felt it when we were just swaying to the music in that picture, and what did I do? I walked away from her. I knew it was ending. I knew she didn’t want another thing from me, and instead of laying it all out in her hotel room, I just walked away.
To what, save face? I feel like a complete fool. I shake my head, my throat threatening to close and not for the first time today.
“Yep,” Kit says, responding to Brooks. “And he’s just now realizing it too.”
“And from that sour look on his face,” Finn adds. “He’s already fucked it up.”
Chapter 30
Leighton
I learned long ago that crying will get me nowhere. Even as a child I knew tears rarely amounted to anything. Mother didn’t care if my face was streaked with wetness so long as it was dry by the time I was in public. They never bothered her. Eventually, I didn’t even bother with them.