Page 42 of Love is Blind

“Nice shirt,” he deadpans.

I lift my hand and pluck at the collar.

“This old thing?” I shrug a shoulder and release the fabric. “I stole it from some guy.”

“Some guy,” he repeats.

Ignoring the clipped tone of his voice, I nod.

“He’s not getting it back either.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want it back.”

Nope not falling for it. I’ve finally got my head sorted. Between that stupid spark and Holly feeding me all that nonsense about Ghost being a good guy, I was a mess. I’m not going down that rabbit hole again. We had a good night, now it’s over. He has his own shit to sort through and I have mine.

I open my mouth to tell him just that, but I temporarily lose my ability to speak when his thumb grazes the corner of lower lip.

“You had a bit of sauce there,” he explains in that gruff tone of his.

I raise a hand to my face, making sure I don’t have a piece of cheese hanging off my lip too, then I sigh and clutch the door a little tighter.

“What are you really doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk,” he says.

I roll my eyes.

“Holly put you up to this.”

“Ah, so you got her figured out, huh?”

I know she’s pushy. Nice, but pushy. Him, on the other hand—a mystery.

“More than I got you figured out.”

Although, I think I know enough to know he’s not going to leave until he says whatever it is he came here to say, so I take a step back and allow him room to enter. He brushes past me, and I close the door. I use my cane to guide me back to the couch and take a seat. Silence stretches between us and for a moment I think back to the other night. Words weren’t an issue then, the quiet was comfortable. Now, it’s just awkward.

“Do you want some pizza? I may have gone a little overboard.”

“I’m good,” he says. “Do you mind if I sit, though?”

I shake my head, silently hoping he takes the chair on the side and not the seat next to me on the couch, but of course he goes with the latter. The second he sits down, his denim clad leg brushes mine and a shock of energy zips through the air like a thunderbolt.

So maybe I didn’t imagine it after all.

“Birdie,” he calls softly.

I shake the thought from my head and reach for my soda.

“Hmm,” I croak.

“I owe you an apology.”

Thankfully I didn’t take a sip yet, or I would’ve reenacted that scene in the bar where I spit my drink all over him. His hand closes around mine and he takes the cup from my hand. I hear him gently set it down on the coffee table, before he turns back to me and his knee hits mine.

This is foreign territory for me and while his intentions may be good and pure, my guard is up. I enjoyed being with Ghost, and like I said I really did want more of him, but I don’t ever want to be in a situation like I was yesterday. I said I was going to reevaluate my choices and I am. I don’t need an apology. I need to forget him.

Clearing my throat, I slide my knee away from his and force a tightlipped smile.

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