Chapter 5 Lottie #2
“There were hard feelings, Lottie. Mine,” he says, staggered, the hurt in his voice sincere.
His brows pull together, frown deep as his eyes scan my face.
“I didn’t like waking up in the early hours of the morning just to find you gone.
It might’ve started off as a one-night stand, but you and I both know that they didn’t stay that way the rest of the night, did they?
After the night we had, I deserved better. We both did. Don’t you think?”
“I—I—” I blow a puff of air through my lips and shake my head.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Because of course it was a crappy thing to do, even if there’s no way that night could’ve been as special to him as it was for me.
Still, it’s difficult to regret my actions when I find myself stumbling through my words like a thirteen-year-old talking to her crush.
His face visibly relaxes at my apology, but he waits for me to continue.
“I don’t usually do that.”
“Leave in the middle of the night?”
“No. I don’t usually hook up with anyone. Ever. At least, I haven’t in a while. I don’t even date—I told you that night. And so when I woke up before you… It just didn’t feel like a good idea to stick around.”
His frown deepens. “Why? Because we hit it off? Because what happened between us that night was more than just—”
I hold a hand up to cut him off and squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want—can’t—hear this. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t even try to deny you didn’t feel what I did.”
I look up at him, surprised to have been called out on my bullshit. Jesus, am I that obvious?
“It wasn’t anything like that. It was because you don’t live here, so why bother?
” Which isn’t even a complete lie. But for god’s sake, what the hell else does he want from me?
Sure, I liked him. A lot. But I have nothing to give.
Nothing to offer. Why would I ever involve myself with someone knowing I would never be able to give them what they wanted only to end up hurting us both? Or at least, myself.
No, thanks. I’m done. Been there; done that. Read the book; saw the movie.
“It was just a one-night stand,” I say through gritted teeth.
Something flashes across his face. But it only lasts a second before he gathers himself. “Still, don’t you think I merited a goodbye?” Knox holds my eyes with his hurt ones.
He seems to be relatively okay that his estranged father died and left him a bunch of stuff in his will. But the fact that I Irish-exited the shit out of our night together has him crashing out? What is even happening?
Wanting to veer off this topic and into another one—literally any other than the one of us hooking up—I ask “Do you really think this is an appropriate conversation to have while we’re about to go into your dead father’s apartment? Aren’t you the least bit upset about this?”
“No.”
“Fantastic. I slept with a sociopath. Or is it a psychopath? I can never tell those two apart,” I whisper, shaking my head.
Seeing the mild horror on my face, he replies, “Look. As one human to another, yes, I was sad to hear he passed. But Walter and I hadn’t spoken in years. About ten, actually. We didn’t have a relationship, so he was basically a stranger to me.”
“Ten years?” I breathe, sidetracked. As someone who lost her parents and misses them every day, I can’t ever imagine myself reaching that point. I would’ve done anything to have my parents by my side as my world was crumbling down around me, leaning on them. “That’s… a really long time.”
“Yeah. So to answer your question, no, I’m not bothered enough by his death to forget about how you snuck off.
I’m not bothered enough to forget about how amazing that night was.
And no, I’m not bothered enough to not wonder what could’ve happened if you’d stayed.
” My breath catches as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Is that okay? Or does it bother you?”
I seriously consider his question.
Walter just— And he just— So shouldn’t I…?
I exhale. “Honestly? I feel like I should be slightly insulted? I feel oddly protective of your da—father. But I see your point. And... I’m sorry I fled in the dead of night like some criminal or something.
” The corners of his mouth twitch. “It wasn’t nice and…
I guess we both definitely deserved better. ”
“Cool. So… Can I take you out for dinner again?”
I sigh. “Knox…”
His face falls, shoulders slouching just a bit. “Really?”
“You’re so young. And I’m… not.”
“I’m not young,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty. “I’m twenty-seven.”
Oh, god. Twenty-seven. Seven years younger than me. I try to control my facial expressions, trying not to reveal the horror I feel at the fact that I slept with someone his age.
And how fantastic it was.
Jesus.
“Is that a problem?” He chuckles as I hold my face in my hands. “And you are not not young. Plus, I’m hardly a kid. I do my taxes all by myself and everything. I could do the shit out of your taxes, too, if you want.” He grins, and I can’t help the way I smile back.
“Crap,” I whisper, my chest expanding.
I stare into his hopeful eyes for a moment, considering. I could go out for dinner with him. I really could. And then I could grow to like him and get attached and then he’ll leave because he’ll want things I can never give him.
Like I said: no, thanks.
“I think you and I had a fantastic night—I won’t deny it,” I start, trying to keep my voice as gentle and level as possible. “But we can’t do this. This is complicated for a lot of reasons, and I don’t do complicated. That okay?”
He sighs, resigned. “Fine. I understand. Or I guess I’ll try to.” And with that, he gently pushes me aside and finally manages to open the door.
“Holy…”
I try to look around him, but his broad shoulders block most of the doorway. When he finally takes a step into the apartment, I realize what we’re really in for.
“Oh my god,” I breathe.
What the hell was Walter up to?