At least, I think I’m glad. After she’s gone, the silence of the house seems oppressive. I end up finishing my glass of wine. Finding out that Wade isn’t who he says he is at all isn’t a reason to waste good wine, after all.
I try to force myself to sit still, but it just isn’t happening.
I know I shouldn’t jump to conclusions or make assumptions because that leads to making bad decisions, and I’ve already made enough of those lately.
But no amount of talking myself down keeps my butt glued to the couch.
Before I even fully realize what I’m doing, I’m rushing out of the front door, thumping down the porch steps, and crossing the distance between my house and Wade’s. I’m knocking at his door—no, pounding on it—and when he answers, I shove my phone—preloaded with one of the many articles I sat and read after Leanne left—into his startled face.
“Were you ever going to tell me that you’re obscenely rich?”
CHAPTER 17
Wade
Fuck. I knew this was going to happen. I let my guard down. I told Lu-Anne my first name. My real name. And my last name is emblazoned across my shoulders. Of course she put two and two together and bingo. She decided to look me up on the internet, and she obviously found something she wasn’t expecting.
She’s more pissed than she is astounded, though I’m not sure why. I mean, I get the general gist of it, I’m just not entirely certain what her reason is exactly, out of the many possible ones.
“Uh, I think you should come in.”
Lu-Anne snatches back her phone and tucks it at her side. Her other hand is balled into a fist, and the flush on her cheeks is from anger this time. She looks like she’s going to give me a kick to the jaw again, but this time, it wouldn’t be so accidental. Sorry, my foot just slipped and hit you in the face. Actually, that wasn’t an accident. My foot hit you in the jaw because you’re an epic asshole.
“I think I’m perfectly fine out here,” she protests.
“Fine,” I hiss. “Let the whole neighborhood hear. It obviously doesn’t matter what I think or want.”
“Not right now, it doesn’t. Not when you lied to me. Yes, you lied. You didn’t tell me. Were you ever going to tell me?”
I continue standing in the doorway in the most unassuming pose I can master. I don’t want to appear angry or intimidate her. I am surprised, but now the initial shock is giving way to annoyance and slight panic. I want to keep those feelings stuffed away in the pit of my chest and not give her any real clue as to how serious this might be for me. If Lu-Anne chooses to blab this all over, I’m going to have to figure out a plan B for hiding out, and I’m going to have to come up with it fast.
“I didn’t lie to you,” I insist. “I didn’t tell you yet because we barely know each other.”
“I think we know each other fine,” Lu-Anne fumes. “You know me well enough to know what the inside of my who-ha feels like.”
“God…” I glance around, but since it’s dark, hardly anyone is out. “You know what I mean. It’s not like we’ve sat down and had a major discussion about our lives.”
“Well, those—they come later!”
“Exactly. Later.”
“But were you planning on telling me this? Ever? Or was I just a distraction for you while you hide out from the world here? I bet all those home renovations were getting pretty boring, and you wanted something else to help you pass the time.”
“That was not my intention at all.” I can see my words have pretty much zero effect on calming Lu-Anne down. She’s in a mood to rage at me, and I just hope the whole neighborhood doesn’t hear what she’s saying.
“Oh, really? I highly doubt that. You said it was your intention to flip the house, so you always planned on leaving.”
“I did also tell you, if I remember correctly, that I had no plans of leaving Chicago.”
“Right. Well, you could still disappear. Chicago is a big place. I just want to know if you were using me. Because right now, it really seems like it.”
“Right. So I came over to your place, spent the night, didn’t leave, made you breakfast, stayed after that, and left to go back to my house, which is right beside yours, of which you’re fully aware. That hardly seems like ghosting you. Sorry I didn’t leave my number. I thought you knew where to find me.” I’m getting slightly annoyed now, and it’s leaking into my voice in dry tones.
Lu-Anne’s face scrunches up as she absorbs that. “I—well—I just…”
“Sorry. I wasn’t aware we were ready for in-depth conversations of a life-changing nature. What did you expect? For me to sit down and have a heart to heart and tell you all about my life after one night? Did you expect me to pull out a ring and ask you to be my wife? Confess everything in my soul?”