“So, this is how we’re doing it?”
“Doing what?”
She whips her hand from her to me and back. “This thing. You and me.”
Annoyance sparks and grows in me. That’s the problem. There can’t be a her and me that won’t ache like flickering lights. But I can’t stand the thought of her and anyone else either.
I search for a way out of this argument and steer back to the bet. “I thought we were supposed to help each other find love. The whole second-chance thing. Isn’t that the plan? Find love and then gloat?” I fix on a smile that I don’t fucking feel. “You’re all too happy to meet other men.”
“Don’t,” she hisses.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t go there,” she says, her tone a blinking red warning. “I came here tonight for you. You wanted to prove your parties were the better way to meet.”
“And I got online today,” I counter. “But I haven’t responded to a single swipe, tap, or poke, or coffee, or bagel request.”
She flaps her hand toward the other room where the festivities continue. “You think I want these other guys? Is that why you’re acting like a total ass?”
“Well?” I challenge. “Do you?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “What do you think? Did you even listen to my podcast today?”
“No. I was busy. Is that what you wanted to talk about tonight?”
She lifts her gaze to the ceiling as if she’s struggling for what to say. When she returns it to me, her eyes are full of frustration and maybe tinged with sadness too. “You’re so clueless. I wanted to talk to you tonight. I didn’t come here to find love.”
“Isn’t that what you want? To find love?”
“Yes, but I came here tonight for you. Because I said I would. Because I thought you wanted all this,” she says, gesturing wildly, encompassing all the party. “Because I wanted to be a woman of my word. Stick to the terms of our bet and show up at your parties.” She sucks in a breath, then raises her chin. “But guess what?”
“What?”
She pokes my chest. “I found love already, you dumbass.”
My brain goes haywire. “You met someone? Here?”
Who is he? I’ll take him down.
With fire in her eyes, she grabs my shirt and twists it hard. “Yes, you idiot. I met someone. I fell in love.”
A drum beats deafening loudly in my ears. “Who the hell is it?”
She jerks me even closer. “Look in the mirror. I’m not interested in these men. But you can’t do this to me, Easton. You can’t ask me to come to your party and tell me you want to set me up, and then sabotage every chance I have.” She bites out each word as my head reels. “I want love. And I deserve it. And I want it with you.”
With me.
Holy shit.
She wants it with me.
My heart scrambles to break out of its cage, to leap into her waiting arms. It wrestles to get away from me, especially when she softens her voice, lightens her grip. “I fell in love with you, you fucking idiot. I don’t want anyone else. I want you to be mine. All mine. Don’t you get it, Easton?”
I do, I want to say.
I don’t want anyone else either, I want to tell her.
I want you only.
But those words won’t form. My throat sticks with sand and my tongue feels heavy because . . .
This feeling.
This too intense, too much, too good, too big, too everything emotion is going to smother me.
It will eat me alive, and I will be lost for good.
One more time, I shove all those feelings far, far away.
“Evidently, I don’t,” I say.
A lone tear slides down one rouged cheek, but my tough, resilient woman swipes it away defiantly. She looks at me, blows out a breath, waits one more beat as if to see what I’ll do.
But I don’t move. I simply can’t.
She presses her lips together and nods tightly.
“Goodbye, Easton,” she says. Then she turns toward the stairwell and disappears through the door.
For the second time in a day, I let her go. I stand here, watching the door, in case she comes back.
She doesn’t.
I don’t know what just happened. No, I do. I just don’t know why I let it.
41
Grandma Knows Best
I’ve never been big on meditation. Mantras aren’t my thing. And the only time I ever needed an intervention was when I spiraled after Anna’s death.
This is not the same. No one died. Bellamy just left. That’s all.
I’ll be fine.
I’ll return to the party, make sure one of the staff steered Max to Angeline to make sure they’re good, then I’ll find another woman for Kendrick, and someone for Payton too. Duty done, I’ll dust my hands, go to The Lucky Spot, and order a stiff drink.
Or ten.
Only . . .