“Hi, Bruce. Hi, Beryl,” a gentle voice says.
I can’t help but smile as she talks to the plants. It hasn’t escaped my attention that Beryl, the bushy little thing, is happy as a pig in shit since Harley brought it home. It’s even sent out these new little shoots, spilling over the sides of the pot in all directions, like a happy ending massage without the obligatory well-timed flannel.
“You both look happy, as though you’ve had a good day. Better than mine, I bet,” she continues, causing the smile to melt off my face at the melancholy in her voice. She’s never sounded so lackluster, so… un-Harley.
She walks into the open living area in her pink fluffy slippers, her eyes cast down. For a moment, I think she’s going to walk right past in the direction of her bedroom, but then she freezes and sucks in a breath.
“You’re here?” Her eyes light up momentarily before they dim, a worried frown appearing on her face where her usual smile would be.
This is all my fault.
I should never have asked her to pretend to be in a relationship with me. To move in and put on a show. All it’s done is cause trouble. And looking at her now, her usual sparkle gone, I can see how selfish I’ve been to drag her into it. So what if she thinks I’m a player she can’t trust? I deserve it. I shouldn’t have let it get to me. I should never have taken it out on her.
It hurt like a motherfucker knowing that’s how she views me, how she will probablyalwaysview me. Some stupid part of me hoped she wouldn’t care about the past. But I know that’s naïve. Everyone has a past. And even though we try, some days we can’t escape it, no matter how deep we bury that shit.
And I’ve dug deeper than most to forget mine.
“How are you?” She walks toward me slowly as I round the coffee table to meet her halfway.
“Okay. You?”
We stop in front of one another, and she chews on her bottom lip as if she’s searching for the right words.
I can provide her with some suitable options. Asshole. Jerk. Prick.
“This apartment feels really big without you,” she says after a moment’s hesitation.
I draw in a deep breath as she looks up at me through her lashes, her eyes searching mine. The remorse in them steals my breath and all I can do is look at her. Look at her and wish I wasn’t the reason for the lack of brightness they usually hold.
“I’m so—”
“Don’t. You’ve said it enough. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”
“You were angry that I jumped to conclusions. I get it, Reed. I assumed. I judged you when I had no reason to. No right to.”
The empathy in her voice cuts into me, like a guilt-laced sword, straight to the heart. She’s right. I was angry. But most of all, I was gutted. Gutted at the realization that’s how she sees me. Still.
She glances at my paperwork on the table and then back at me. “I keep getting you wrong, don’t I? First about Bea, and then—”
“It’s fine,” I reply softly.
“It’s not fine.” The next thing I know she’s throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me to her. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know you better than that. I’ve just spent the last couple of years surrounded by men thinking with their dicks and ruining everything.” Her voice shakes with emotion. “Please forgive me.”
I sink my nose into her hair and inhale the scent of coconut as I wrap my arms around her and hold her tightly.
She feels so good in my arms.
Her hands slide up the back of my neck into my hair and she sighs as she sinks into me.
“After my brother, you’re the closest male friend I have. I’vemissedyou.” Her soft lips graze my neck as she speaks, and it takes all my strength to fight to keep my dick from moving.
“You missed me?”
“I really did.” She sniffs, her fingers stroking the back of my neck.
“And you still want to be my friend?” I murmur into her hair.Friend.The word causes my heart to sink in my chest.
“Uh-huh.” She tightens her grip on me. “I do.”