Page 40 of Forget Me

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’re—” I bit my tongue before the wordhangryslipped out.

Her eyebrows disappeared into her curly bangs. She put her hands on her hips. “I’m going out for drinks with my friend Bree tonight. I’ll eat something then.”

“Oh. Ah.” Words tripped over each other on my tongue. What could I say that wouldn’t hit that hair trigger of hers? “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“What, going out with my friend?”

I’d seen for myself what a goodfriendBree had been. When her fiancé picked her up, she stumbled out without a thought for Mimi, who’d been practically passed out on the bar. I couldn’t bear to think about what could have happened to her, alone in a bar full of guys who’d have gladly taken advantage of a woman as beautiful—and as drunk—as Mimi.

But I’d been there, and I’d protected her from those guys. We’d talked the way we’d never talked before. Or since. I’d gotten to know her. I’d fallen a tiny bit in love that night. And she’d seemed to like me, too, for once.

Jesus Christ, how I wished she remembered the connection we had. But I’d be a fool to tell her about it. She’d never believe me. She had to remember it for herself.

“Be careful, okay? Be sure you eat something first. And drink plenty of water.”

“What the hell, Mateo? I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“Not when you’re drinking.” My vision hazed as I remembered how that one guy at the bar had reached a hand toward her shoulder. I’d wanted to snap it off. “You can’t hold your liquor,” I snarled.

Her eyes went wide, and she stared over my shoulder as she squeaked, “Hey, Monique. Almost time for our meeting?”

“It is.” A tall Black woman with a square jaw narrowed her eyes at us. “I just came in to top off my coffee.”

“I’ll be right there.”That’s my boss,she mouthed at me.

Shit! I’d fucked up her life again. But I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to make it right.

“I guess I’ll go.” I tucked the bag with the poison food under my arm.

“I think you should,” she said darkly.

As I tucked my tail and scurried from the building, my face burned even in the chilly San Francisco afternoon. She’d never forgive me for calling her a drunk in front of her boss.

I didn’t deserve to be forgiven. I didn’t deserve her.

All I could do was the one thing I was good at: protecting her.

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