Chapter 14 #2
“Yeah. I mean, it’s just content, right? Nothing real. Nothing serious.”
“Bullshit,” I said, the word snapping out sharper than I intended.
She blinked at me, startled.
But I didn’t back down.
“What you’re doing?” I said, shaking my head. “It’s more than real. Look at all this fucking stuff. Cass, this is incredible.”
She blinked fast, like she didn’t know what to do with the compliment. I hated the doubt on her face, the way she undercut herself. Was it because of what I said, or was it what she always did. “No one really understands how much goes on behind the scenes.”
She yawned suddenly, hiding it behind the sleeve of her hoodie.
It made something in my chest twist—the thought that she did all of this, fought so damn hard, and still smiled through it for a camera. Still carried it alone.
“You need someone to help you,” I said before I could stop myself.
“I know.” She tucked her knees tighter to her chest, resting her chin on them, watching me with those bright, tired eyes. “I’m working on posting a job this week. I can pay someone well.”
“Good. I’m not sure how much help I can be, but let me know if I can help, okay?”
She nodded before she took a breath to steel herself. “I know why you’re here and I can assure you it won’t mess anything up for you.”
“What?” I frowned. She knew I lost I mind when I saw Mathias show up in the feed? “I’m—”
“Our PR relationship. I’m sure you heard that Mathias, my ex, showed up here tonight.” She closed her eyes, fresh pain evident. “I had no idea and didn’t plan it. I promise.”
“Cassidy, hon, I’m not here for that.”
An adorable wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “Why else would you be here?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” I leaned forward and placed my hand on her bare calf.
Smooth, warm skin met mine and I gripped it in what I hoped was a form of comfort.
“I saw your face when he showed up. You were shocked, and froze. I’m used to your insults or flirtations, but that sad, lost expression? I had to make sure you’re alright.”
And to make sure you’re not getting back with him.
No man who left his woman during a funeral was worth a second chance. She had to know that. But what if she missed him?
She yawned again and gave me a sleepy smile. “That’s honestly so nice of you.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I quipped. “I can be nice.”
Her gaze moved over the living room, toward her kitchen where the flowers rested.
I wanted to yank them out of her place and run them over with my truck—three times, maybe four, just to be safe.
Yet I got the sense she was building up to share something with me.
“Hey, look at me,” I said softly, leaning forward. “It’s past your bedtime. If you want to talk, I’d love to listen, but if you want to rest, I can crash on the couch.”
“What?” She blinked, her eyes wide, like I’d offered to move in and adopt a puppy with her or something.
“Spend the night here?”
“Yeah.” I gripped the back of my neck, wincing at how stupid the words sounded now.
“Look, I’m trying to be a good friend here. It had to be shocking to see your ex. You haven’t seen him since the funeral, right?”
“Right.” She chewed on the side of her lip, that nervous little tic I was starting to recognize.
“He wants to get back together. He said he misses me and that he handled the grief horribly. It reminded him of when he lost his sister years ago and it made him run.”
She rubbed her thumb and pointer finger together, not looking at me but not drifting either.
“He hates himself for what he did. He wants me to forgive him.”
I swallowed hard, fighting every single instinct in my body to blurt out terrible idea, Cass, or you deserve so much better than a guy who only shows up when it’s convenient.
My knuckles whitened where they rested on my thighs, the only physical tether keeping me from doing something incredibly stupid.
Because the truth was? I didn’t want to sit here and listen to her weigh Mathias like an option on a fucking dinner menu.
I wanted to shake her, drag her away from that vase of pity flowers, and tell her that real grief didn’t excuse abandoning someone you claimed to love.
That the first man to leave would not be the one to catch her when it mattered. That she deserved someone who stayed, even when it hurt, even when it was messy, even when it wasn’t easy.
But that wasn’t my call to make.
It had to be hers.
So I took a breath that scraped like sandpaper down my throat. “How do you feel about it?” I asked.
“I feel…” she sighed and tucked into her hoodie more. “I feel like I want those damn flowers out of here.”
“Right now?” I stood, marching toward the counter and gripping them in my hands. “It would be my fucking pleasure to throw these outside.”
She giggled and the flicker of sunshine returned. “He asked me if I liked yellow tulips when we first got together, and I said yes because I thought he wanted me to. He never asked what my favorite flower was, but it’s not those.”
“Hold that thought, Calloway.” I probably looked like a wild animal with how much joy I got from taking the flowers and tossing them into a trashcan outside her door.
If I didn’t want to rush back to her, I’d consider actually running them over, but this was the right call. “Okay, the merch is taken care of.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “You did seem to enjoy that.”
“Oh, I did. Fake girlfriend or not, a man does not enjoy when someone tries to take their woman.” I sat back on the couch, the action causing her to lean more toward me. “Anything else he touched that you want me to burn?”
“I might enjoy this rather sassy side of you.” She poked my side. “You’re funny like this.”