Page 82 of The Player + The Pact = I Do

“We did,” I say.

“So that changes things. It’s not fake. You’re moving out, but are you going to continue to see each other?” she asks.

I shake my head. “We were supposed to talk last night and then?—”

“And then your dad did a runner just like he used to when you were a kid.”

“I couldn’t face Leo after that. I didn’t want to talk about anything last night.”

“Did he call? Did you tell him what happened with your dad?”

I shake my head. “I texted him I had to go back to Jersey and deal with some stuff.”

“So Dad wasn’t the only one to bail,” she mumbles.

“What?” My voice comes out like a distressed kitten’s mewl. “You’re saying I’m like my dad?”

“Not exactly. But aren’t you bailing before things get complicated—or more complicated—with Leo? It’s notnotwhat your dad did…”

“Dad wasn’t avoiding a hard conversation with me. If he was, he wouldn’t have turned up and asked for a job out of nowhere.”

“He is the master at deflection and avoidance,”Sophia says. “You need to talk to Leo. You can’t run from your feelings, Jules.”

I hate the thought that I could be like my dad. He causes so much hurt and pain in what he leaves behind. I don’t want to hurt Leo. It’s the last thing I want to do. But I can’t cope with being hurt either. Not by Leo. I think it would break me. Better to run while I’m still able.

“What’s the point in talking about anything? It’s not like the guy is going to marry me for real. I’d rather walk away now. We were only ever temporary.”

“Things have changed,” she challenges. “Maybe heisgoing to marry you. At the very least he deserves a conversation.”

I know she’s right. I know I should talk to him, but I don’t have anything left for more emotional upheaval. “Things haven’t changed,” I say.

“Things always change when sex is involved.”

“Not for Leo,” I say. “He’s been burned before, and it’s made him the way he is. People don’t change.” I sigh. “I’m not going to be the pathetic woman who convinces herself she can teach an old dog new tricks.” I’ve made the mistake of having hope—of thinking things could be different with my dad. I’m not going to make the same mistake with Leo. “I’m not going to try and fix anyone. I’m not going to hope anyone fixes themselves. I’m done. Can we just get me packed up?” I feel drained from the last twenty-four hours. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.

“We can. But I’m going to bring this up again. I want you to be happy.”

“I want me to be happy too. But wanting something doesn’t make it reality.”

She closes the cardboard box and lifts it off my bed. “Admitting you want something, someone?It’s the first step, Jules. I can see how that would be hard for you, after the way your dad constantly raised and dashed your hopes when you were little. You’ve trained yourself not to want anything from anyone. But I’m not sure that leaves room for much happiness.”

The front door of the apartment slams.Leo.

“I’m going to take these boxes downstairs,” she says. “Talk to him.”

I groan. I really am too tightly wound to see him now. I don’t trust myself to keep it together.

I work quickly, stuffing clothes and papers from work into boxes. I’m going to regret my bad packing, but I need to get out of here as soon as possible.

I stack the boxes by my bedroom door and check the time. Sophia has been gone for about twenty minutes. What the hell is she doing down there? Of course, she’s giving me time to speak to Leo.

I pull my hair out of its ponytail and take a deep, steadying breath. Time to face the music.

I open my bedroom door to the sight of Leo leaning against the wall opposite.

“Hey,” I say, trying to sound light. Breezy.

“Hey,” he replies, scratching the back of his head. His faded blue t-shirt lifts an inch, revealing that hard, flat stomach I know so well. “You need a hand with anything?”

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