Page 49 of Mr. Not Nice Guy

“If you don’t feel up to any of this,” he clarifies, his thumbs doing a sweep across the skin of my hands. “Just tell me.”

I speak on reflex. “I don’t.”

“Okay,” he says simply, then kisses my hands again before letting one go to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” My brow furrows at him while he scrolls and postures like he’s about to start making calls again.

August holds the phone at the level of his chest and gestures at me with it. “I’m getting you out of everything.”

I set my hand on his phone to stop him. “Why are you doing that? You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can.” He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “The timing of this sucks, and you’re not required to do any of it.” He sets his phone down on the vanity table and then reaches to cup the nape of my neck. “All of this is ceremonial bullshit, and if you’re feeling too sad, you are absolutely not obligated to follow through with any of it.”

I force a teasing quirk of my lips. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes. It’s all over your face, and even if it wasn’t, I just know. And you know what?” His thumb draws tenderly across the line of my jaw. “It’s okay if you woke up this morning and thought you could handle all this, but then it hits you all over again. It’s okay if, a few weeks from now, you think you have it under control, but you suddenly don’t. It doesn’t make you weak, or flaky, or unprofessional, or not dedicated to your craft. You’re in the process of healing a gaping hole in your heart and your life, and healing is messy. It has no timeline. And it’s my job to protect you from anything that interferes with that.”

The mere mention of the gaping hole that is too fucking real causes my bottom lip to tremble and tears to slip out of my eyes. I’m still skeptical about what it is we’re doing, and I default into trying to trade barbs with him. “Because you’re my manager. Because it’s your job to deal with a prima donna like me.”

August rakes a hand through his tousled, dark blonde hair and fixes his green eyes on me as he holds my hand in my lap. “Because I love you. Because I gave you my word that I’m going to take care of you. Both personally and professionally. And right now, I’ve never been more grateful to be the person managing you, because that way I can ensure that all of this continues to run smoothly and nobody hassles you about anything unimportant while you’re coping with losing your grandmother.”

Again, just hearing an explicit reference to Maw-Maw has me feeling broken all over again, and I turn my face low. Tears are dangling off the false eyelashes and causing my vision to go blurry. One slides from the corner of my eye and down the slope of my nose, where it drops off the tip and lands on August’s hand, which is still holding mine.

“Let me get you out of all this today, Scarlett,” he murmurs. “I promise it isn’t a big deal, and it won’t be a problem.”

I sniff and shake my head. “No. I’ll be okay. I can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

The innocent question suddenly translates in my mind to having nothing to do with my professional obligations today, and I blurt out the word, “No.”

“That’s okay. You still have time—”

“About you. About this,” I clarify impulsively as I look up at him. There’s an immediate stabbing sensation in the middle of my chest as I see a subtle, but distinctive flinch in his expression that reminds me he’s been excruciatingly honest and candid about his feelings since he confessed them on Saturday. But even the stab in my chest isn’t enough to dam the unnecessary words from slipping out. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know—”

“You don’t know how to trust me,” he finishes for me, his voice gentle. He continues to hold my hand, but he doesn’t say anything for a while.

He just stares at me for a long time. His expression morphs into something neutral and focused; like the gears are turning in his head. Eventually, his shoulders rise and fall under the weight of a deep, silent breath. I have no idea what all he was just sorting through, but it’s making me nervous.

His eyes flick downward and he exhales silently again. “Scarlett,” he murmurs so quietly it’s more like he’s saying it to himself. He clears throat and meets my gaze again. “I understand. Trust takes time to build. And sometimes, you start from a place where trust is so shattered that it’s like trying to build a house from splinters and broken glass, and it’s so impossible that you can’t ever have it completely. That’s what this is, Scarlett. I’ve accepted that. But it’s not going to change the fact that I’m here for you in every way you need. It’s not going to change the way I feel about you. If this isn’t something you can do…” August pulls my hand to his chest and rests it on his heart. “This, I mean. I understand, but I’m still going to be here for you.”

I stare at his hand holding mine against his light blue, pressed Oxford shirt. None of what has happened between us over the past couple of days is even anything official yet, and he’s already prepared for me to shut him down and shut him out. “Liza really kicked the shit out of you, huh?”

One side of his mouth quirks in a self-deprecating smile. “Why do you say that?”

“You just sound like you’re expecting this to be over before I even get a chance to figure it out.”

August gives me a sad smile. “I’m just being realistic. Yes, Liza broke my heart, but it’s because I placed expectations on her that I should’ve known were unrealistic given what I knew about her history. And that was just an ordinary situation between two ordinary people. This is different. You’re about to be thrust into a life full of possibilities that might not have a place for me beyond a professional capacity. You’re extraordinary. A lot of people are going to see that. People with whom you don’t have a history of broken trust. You might find something that fits you better than me.”

He lifts his hand to stroke my cheek, and his smile persists, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I was in that bar the night we met because I was looking for my unicorn. And I found you.” He shakes his head, and a strand of his hair falls over his eyes. “Youarea unicorn, Scarlett. In every single way imaginable. But it’s possible that you’re not actually mine. Whether or not you are is up to you.”

I’m probably so tangled up in the stages of grief that I can’t differentiate what’s up, down, right, or left, but I’m suddenly just fuckingangry. I bristle, every muscle in my body tensing up, and I push my foot against the bottom rung of the stool and spin away from him.

“That’s such a fucking cop-out, August.” Bracing my hands on the armrests, I shove out of the chair and stalk across the salon to stare out the window.

“Why?” he asks, his voice still completely calm and gentle andirritating,if I’m being honest.

“Because,” I snap, tugging my satin robe tighter around me and then crossing my arms over my chest. “I appreciate that we’re not at each other’s throats constantly anymore, but I don’t know if I like this version of you much better.”

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