Page 9 of Late Nights

Cannon sat on the other couch, keeping his distance. “Let me guess—there was a miscommunication that could have been cleared up in one conversation, and then they could have avoided all the heartbreak and been together all that time.”

I wanted to laugh, but I worked to keep my face neutral. “Oh, so you’ve seen this movie? I didn’t take you for a romance movie kind of guy.”

His amused look had me fighting a smile. “You have to admit that all these romance movies and books are all the same.” He gestured to the TV, where the couple was now in a passionate embrace. “And why don’t you take me for a romance movie kind of guy?”

I shrugged, keeping my attention on the couple. “First of all, who cares whether romance stories are all the same, because watching a love story unfold is the funnest part,” I said, arguing against his first comment. “And second, you just don’t strike me as a romance guy. You’re one of those forever bachelors. Never getting close enough to a woman to actually have a relationship.”

Wow. I couldn’t believe I had just said all that to his face. Hopefully I’d made it sound nonchalant and like a random observation, not like I was wishing he were different.

His wide eyes and raised brows told me that he couldn’t believe I had said that to him either.

“No offense,” I rushed to add, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

“Too bad,” he said through a grin. “Offense taken.”

His amusement at my remarks eased any tension that might have come from my earlier comments, giving me a new confidence.

“Being offended is a choice,” I refuted.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “I don’t think you’re as much of a romantic as you claim to be either.” He crossed his arms across his chest like he had just delivered an equally offensive remark, which had me almost laughing.

“Oh, really?” I asked, playing into his assumption. “And why is that?”

“Someone who really believed in romance and love and all that other gushy stuff wouldn’t have been in a years-long, on-again, off-again relationship with a total prick.” His gruff tone had me sitting further back into the couch.

Wow, okay. That was a well-done comeback.

I sat there blinking, looking down at my hands but not really seeing them. At a loss as to how to respond, I kept quiet.

My relationship with Aiden had been more convenient than anything. We definitely hadn’t had any romance, love, or any of the gushy stuff. Being with him had been easy in the sense that it had been nice to have a boyfriend at events, and my parents had been happy about it since they’d been friends with his parents for years. They had seemed to secretly hope we would get married one day. They’d pushed us together, and like I’d done with my MBA, it had been easier to go along with what my parents’ wishes than to push back. Add Aiden to the list of my regrets and my parents’ unmet expectations.

Cannon’s words stung, but they were also the truth. That’s why they had more bite to them than he’d probably intended.

“Crap,” Cannon muttered. “Demi, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” He moved as if to stand but then thought better of it and sat back down.

“No, it’s fine. You’re right.” I played with a loose thread on the blanket across my lap. “I should have ended things with Aiden a long time ago.” Pushing my shoulders back, I looked at Cannon with more confidence than I felt. “But I’ll have you know that things between me and the prick are officially over. For good. I haven’t spoken to him in four months.”

He leaned his forearms against his thighs, keeping his eyes on his interlocked fingers. “That’s good. He didn’t deserve you.”

My heart pounded in my chest at the softness and sincerity in his voice. It had me daring to ask a question I might not have had the courage to ask under normal circumstances. “Are you just saying that as an overprotective brother?” I held my breath, wondering how he would respond to my use of the word brother.

He lifted his head, his gaze locked on mine. “No.” His answer full of conviction. “Sorry if this disappoints you, but I don’t have one brotherly thought about you.” His eyes were blazing with what looked like desire, but I must have been seeing things because he couldn’t possibly be looking at me like that.

Or could he?

Before I had a second to process what was happening, he was on his feet.

“It’s late. We should probably get to sleep.”

His abrupt change in topic had my mind reeling. What was going on?

First he was staying out late, possibly avoiding me. Then darting into the bathroom so he didn’t have to talk to me, but then coming back out to hang out with me on the couch.

I was probably reading way more into this than I should. The best thing to do was to act like everything was normal.

“Yeah, it is late.” I reached for the remote and turned off the TV.

“Good night, Demi,” he said but wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

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