Page 10 of Keeping Mr. Sweet

“Yes. That. Exactly,” I say woodenly. Didn’t I say something similar to him the last time I left? That I couldn’t stay grounded when there was a whole life waiting for me outside of the bubble we created. Couldn’t wait around to see if that bubble would implode when the fact he was fucking his much younger sister’s best friend finally hit him. When he realized I was just a burden. After all, he’d suggested as much enough times that he must have had doubts. “Can we go back to how we were before?” Before I grew up and wanted him to be mine. Before he looked at me like I might be his woman. “Friends?”

“Friends?” He runs his gaze over me like he’s looking at me in a whole new light. Arms crossed, he shrugs as if it’s no big deal that we’ve spent the last couple of weeks as lovers. It’s almost as if he doesn’t see me like that anymore. That top lip lifts again, but this time it carries the weight of his indifference. “You think we should be friends?”

“Yes.” I nod overenthusiastically. The relief doesn’t last, it only dulls the horror over lying to him.

For a moment we stand facing each other, completely alone in our own worlds. Then he speaks again. “Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“What?” Is he really saying we can’t even be friends anymore when we’ve been close much longer than we’ve been lovers?

“You swan into my life whenever you feel like it. Change your mind over whether you want to be in my bed or not, whether you want to be with me, or you want to party and travel. It’s too hard for me, Ash. It’s just too much to deal with.”

I want to tell him it’s not that simple, but I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to explain if I tried.

“We can be friends, the kind of friends that catch up when we see each other, but you can’t come to me when you need someone to help you out of a jam. Or you just want to play house for a little while. It’s not good for either of us.”

“Sam.” I almost say, But that’s what we do. That’s who we are. You didn’t seem to care when you needed me to care for you.

“You came to me. You came because you needed me as much as I needed you. But we can’t keep doing this. I don’t know about you, but maybe I want a real future with someone who wants the things that I want. A house. A dog. Kids. A woman my own age who’s ready to settle down.”

That was supposed to be my future. My life…with him. Mine.

“Or maybe I’m just too damn tired to keep up with you anymore,” he says as I walk past him to collect my bags.

Picking them up, I carry them to the door. I’m not sure which is worse. That he wants all those things we used to talk about, or that he’s finally figured out I’m not worth the effort. “I guess I’ll see you around. I’ll still have to come visit Summer.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” he mumbles.

I drop a case long enough to open the door.

“Do me a favor, Ash?”

Grasping onto the million little strings that it takes to keep myself together, I hesitate. “Yes, Sam.”

“Stay out of trouble.”

***

I pause on the steps into the kitchen. From here they don’t notice me, but I can watch Sam as he runs his team. He might still be single, but he certainly did move on in other ways. It looks good on him, this running his own kitchen gambit. His white chef’s coat hugs his torso just right, his hair is slightly damp with sweat from the heat in the kitchen and the efficacy of his movements. I take a seat, draw my knees up to my chest and just watch while his team does their job, joking and cussing and behaving like a family. I rest my head on my knees, staying there until I get caught.

“Hey, Sam.” The chef, he’s wearing the same white coat as Sam’s, puts his hands on his knees as he bends to look me in the face. His brow wrinkles into deep grooves over dark eyes. “Did you know you have a woman on your steps?”

“What?” Sam yells without taking his eyes off the pan in his hand.

“There’s a chick.” The man straightens up and glances in Sam’s direction. “Some little girl on your steps.”

“A little girl? How little?”

Sam turns his attention to us as I say, “I’m not little.”

The man puts both hands out in front of his chest and shrugs one shoulder in a semi-apologetic way, even as he smiles like he’s entertained by my appearance. “Didn’t mean to offend.”

“That’s Ash. Ru, you remember Summer’s friend?”

“Ru?” I jump up from the stairs, quickly brushing my hands over my dress. “Rupert Foster? Seriously?”

His brown eyes twinkle, his smile growing all the way up to the mop of dark curls atop his head as he throws open his arms. “Mischief maker, come here. I haven’t seen you since...” I slam into his chest as he wraps me in his arms. “Well, you were a little girl, actually, weren’t you?”

“I was fifteen.”

---