Page 70 of The Truth About Love

Three days. It’s so soon and yet, at the same time, feels so far away.

Three days until I see the girl who broke my heart again. Three days to try and work through the lingering resentment I feel towards her for leaving me the way she did. Three days to work out what the fuck I’m going to tell Cara.

She’d flip her shit if she knew I was about to move in with my ex-girlfriend, the girl who I’ll always consider the love of my life. But she deserves my honesty. Even if that means she decides to cut things off between us, telling her the truth is the right thing to do.

But worrying about that can wait.

Summer-Raine needs me and that’s the most important thing right now.

***

I told Cara that Summer-Raine is my cousin.

I’m not sure why.

It’s not as if the thought of her breaking things off between us worried me so much that I couldn’t face telling her the truth. Honestly, I just couldn’t summon the energy to have a conversation that I knew would end in a fight.

Maybe that makes me an asshole, I don’t know. But in the moment, sitting across the table from her at her favourite sushi restaurant, lying seemed like the most logical thing to do.

I’m not proud of it. I’ve always taken pride in doing the right thing, in being a gentleman and keeping my promises, so I don’t know why I prioritised convenience over honesty in that moment. Or why I’ve kept the lie going since.

Even more surprisingly, I don’t feel guilty. My thoughts have been too occupied with seeing Summer-Raine again after such a long time to have lingered on my deception. And thatdefinitelymakes me an asshole.

But even now, pulling my truck up in a parking spot outside an apartment building in uptown Tallahassee, I can’t find it in me to worry about Cara and how she deserves better. Because my breath is coming in short gasps, my heart thuds like a thunderstorm and my palms are so sweaty, they slip from the steering wheel.

I’m only moments away from finally laying eyes on Summer-Raine. And truthfully, I don’t know if I’m ready.

Not for the first time, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. It took me so long after we broke up to get myself back into a good place, to adjust to life without her and accept that she didn’t love me anymore. In my naïve, eighteen-year-old mind, I honestly thought that we’d last forever.

So maybe agreeing to do this was a stupid thing to do. If I was still in love with her, which I’m not, it would be the perfect way to get my heart broken again. At the very least, I’ll end up with more bruises on my soul.

And yet, that doesn’t stop me from pulling my luggage out the back of my truck and nodding at the doorman, whom Winter has already approved my arrival with. It doesn’t stop me boarding the elevator, pressing the button for Summer-Raine’s floor and walking the corridors until I find the door with her number on.

And when I raise my fist to knock, listening for the sound of footsteps as she shuffles through the apartment to answer the door, it doesn’t stop a smile spreading across my face as after five years of missing her, worrying about her and picturing her face as I make love to other women, I finally lay eyes on her again.

And fuck, if the sight of her doesn’t steal the breath straight from my lungs.

I want to stand and stare at her forever. Take in the sight of her wide, surprised eyes and cheeks that are flushed from rushing to answer the door.

But I don’t.

Because that’s not what I’m here for.

And it’s in my best interest to remember that.

So, I ignore how she’s just as beautiful as she was in high-school, if not more so, and swallow down the urge to pull her into my arms and breathe in the smell of her. Instead, I let my smile melt into a smirk as I feign total confidence and control.

And with a voice as steady as I can muster, I finally utter the words I’ve been practicing for the last three days.

“Hello, Summer-Raine.”

Chapter Eighteen

Summer-Raine

“Hello, Summer-Raine.”

I stumble backwards, a strangled gasp escaping me as I knock into the coffee table in the middle of my living area.

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