Page 58 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

"Like what? Setting his yoga mat on fire?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of mailing it back to him. Perhaps with some creative repackaging."

"Creative how?"

"Ever wonder what happens when you combine sage, human waste, and glitter?"

I shouldn't laugh. I really shouldn't.

I do anyway.

"Come on." I unlock my door, leaving the basket in the hall. "I have wine, and I'm pretty sure I still have some of that lasagna Nonna Flora sent over."

"You're inviting me in?" He raises an eyebrow. "What happened to professional boundaries?"

""Professional boundaries went out the window somewhere between dance lessons and discussing glitter-shit warfare." Istep inside. "Unless you'd rather go home and prep for tomorrow's blockchain presentation?"

He follows me in, closing the door. "You fight dirty, Bristol."

"You like it dirty.”

"Maybe I do."

The words bubble between us, simmering like a pot on low boil.

I busy myself in the kitchen, trying to ignore how his presence fills my apartment. How right it feels to have him here, leaning against my counter like he belongs.

"So," he says as I pour my best red wine, "want to talk about it?"

“Talk about what? The fact that my ex thinks crystal healing will fix his karma? Or the fact that you're in my kitchen at..." I check my phone. "Ten PM on a Tuesday?"

"Both." He accepts a glass. "Though I'm more interested in why you're letting me stay."

"Because..." I hesitate. “I don’t know…Just…Because.”

His eyes soften. "Ariana..."

"Don't." I take a large sip of wine. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I’m a shard of glass about to break.”

“Would that be so bad?” He steps closer. "I see someone who's been through a hell of a lot lately. A lot of change. Some not so good…Especially that jackass of a man you were supposed to marry.”

"That's not—Will was…”

“A fucking idiot.”

I blink at the sudden hostility. "What?"

“I said he was a fucking idiot. Because he was.” Connor moves closer still. “Any man, anyone, who has the opportunity to have someone like you— someone incredible, brilliant, warm, and fun as hell when she lets herself be—deserves to fallinto a vat of glittered-shit and drown in it. He was too weak to handle your relationship. Handle you.”

"Connor, I don’t think he was…”

“What? Intimidated by you?” Another step. “A strong man doesn’t look at a woman like you and try to change her. A strong man, a capable man, only wants a woman like you. He should have been dazzled by how capable you are. How smart you are. How loving.”

"I don't know how accurate that ‘loving’ part is.”

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