They were destined to fail because they were two different people. They made good friends. God, they even made good lovers, but that was a one night, too many drinks, lowered inhibitions kind of a deal. They would never make a good couple.
So yeah.
Sydney stepped out of the shower. She grabbed one of the huge, fluffy white towels off the rack and wrapped it around herself. She swiped at her eyes, angry and annoyed at herself for crying.
She padded, her wet hair dripping down the towel, her feet leaving little dark impressions on the tiled floor, over to the huge mirror that stood over the sink. There was a fan going overhead that had turned on the second she’d hit the shower’s spray- which was pretty dang impressive. It sucked the moisture out of the air, making sure that the mirror hadn’t fogged up at all.
She studied herself there, the features that she knew so well. The wide, cerulean blue eyes. The honeyed, brown hair that spilled over her shoulders, a darker color when it was wet. Thick eyelashes, full lips, high cheekbones.
Her mom once told her, when she was fourteen, that she’d never make a good wife. That she was wild and flighty and couldn’t settle down into anything. That she was just like her.
She’d taken it to heart, even though it was said as a joke, a compliment even. Her mom wanted her to realize that being a strong, independent woman was okay. Fast forward nearly two decades and the joke wasn’t funny at all. She’d stayed at a job she hated for the past ten years, just to prove she could. She didn’t bother with advancing up the corporate ladder, because she didn’t really give a shit about it. And now her mom, her mom, was overjoyed at the prospect of her getting engaged and producing grandbabies, of being less independent.
Sydney gave her head a shake. “Not going to happen,” she muttered under her breath. “Stay strong, Syd. It’s only three days.”
Three days of hell.
Three more days to haunt her for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER 11
Jesse
“How was your shower?” he couldn’t resist asking, even though judging by Syd’s flushed cheeks and her sparkling eyes, she felt a lot better.
“Good.” She cocked a brow as she strode into the kitchen. “But then again, you should know. You probably have cameras set up in there, watching me like a perv.”
“Cameras?” He laughed. “No way. That’s a lot of trouble to go to when it’s not anything I haven’t seen before.”
He watched the burn creep up her neck and flood her cheeks with more than a little satisfaction. Two could play at being an asshole, that was for sure.
Never one to admit defeat, Sydney swallowed hard. “It was just a shower. Why so fancy? Who needs more than one showerhead? And three sinks. That’s just excessive.”
He shrugged, expecting her to find fault with as much as possible. “Maybe. My parents picked it out. I wanted to buy them a new house, now that I have the money to do it, but they flat out refused. They’re still living in the same house we grew up in. I made them a deal. Told them since they’re retired now, that they can live in their house until I’m done with this one and then they can have it. I plan to have it good and broke in by then so that they don’t feel bad about taking me up on my offer.”
Syd swallowed hard and glanced around the kitchen. “All of it’s a bit much for someone who wants to save the world. Why didn’t you just choose something normal and donate the rest of the money that you obviously spent on this place to charity, if you care so much.”
Jesse didn’t miss a beat. He went right on putting the finishing touches on their dinner, pretty much the only thing he could make- chicken alfredo with steamed green beans. His hands flew over the plates, sprinkling lemon pepper seasoning onto the beans and grating cheese onto the pasta.
He was well aware that Syd’s eyes were burning into him, watching every single movement. She wouldn’t be watching if she didn’t give a shit, he reasoned. That line creasing her brow and the slight pout at her lips wasn’t just because she said she didn’t want to be there. She cared. He knew she did. He just had to wear away at the walls she’d built up around herself, find a chink in her armor.
“I thought about it,” he confessed. “It was a good investment. I can make more money in equity than I could just by donating it straight off. I’m trying to make a difference in other ways. If my parents don’t want the house in a few years, I’ll sell it and donate the equity.”