Page 51 of Lessons in Love
“I’m glad you like it. I bought it for the holiday party. It’s Herve Leger. I splurged.”
My hand stops as my gaze rises to the back of her exposed neck, the same neck I like to kiss, lick, and suck. She keeps talking, not noticing that I’m frozen to the spot trying to control this pain in my chest . . . these feelings. Fuck. “Between the shoes and the dress, I spent a month’s worth of rent, but you seem to like them so I’m hoping it’s money well spent. I’m really hoping to make an impression on New Year’s.”
“You bought this for him?”
She glances back at me over her shoulder. “I bought it for the party.”
“You bought this dress for that asshole, but wore it for me for what reason?” I spin her around to face me, holding her by the upper arms. “To see if it would get the reaction you’re hoping to get from him?” Her gaze falls from mine as shame takes over. “Look at me, V. Look at me and tell me the truth.”
“Well yes,” she says, hesitantly. “I knew if you liked it on me, Lowry would like it.”
My hands fall away and I raise my head, my gaze searching her ceiling as I try to calm the turmoil that’s spinning inside of me. When I look back at her, I see the anxiety return to her eyes, the same I saw the first time she apologized to me. And as much as I want to calm it, I don’t. I won’t. She needs to feel it. She needs to feel what it’s like to hurt someone who cares about her, so she doesn’t do it again. I bite my tongue and move around to unzip the dress the rest of the way. Then I walk out of the bedroom and straight for the kitchen. I’m staring down at the glass of whiskey when, from a distance behind me, she says, “Hardy, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
I don’t turn around. I don’t let her off. I just take the glass and finish the liquor. When I set it down on the counter, I close my eyes, and drop my head. “When are you going to see, Virginia?” Disappointment, heartbreak, and resolve fill my tone, and I say, “This won’t be pretty.”
“What?” There’s a tremble to her tone that makes me hate myself for causing it.
“Us.” I stand there, before her, hope gone. “There’s only one way for this to end and it’s badly.
One step.
Two more.
She stops, afraid to come closer.
Afraid of me?
She swallows hard enough for me to hear. “It doesn’t have to.”
“But it will. Are you ready to take the fall? Cuz there’s no going up, sweetheart. It’s downhill from here.”
“We can keep things light. Fun?—”
“And games.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You didn’t have to. What do you want from me?”
“I want your friendship. I want your?—”
“And what?” I ask, leaning on the counter and crossing my arms over my chest. My feelings may be hurt, but I’m in no hurry to leave them bleeding at her feet in the Financial District. “Just say it. Friendship and what?”
“Support.”
Friend-zoned. Just like that I’ve been taken out of the running. “And there it is.” A smirk comes out, but it’s more one of disbelief than anything else. “Let me ask you something. How’d you get Lowry to come to The Hideaway that night? For real.”
She shifts on her feet, the red dress loose in the front from hanging open in the back. “I talked one of the receptionists he’s always hitting on into going out. She suggested The Hideaway. Katie had been trying to get me to go there for months. So I casually on purpose made sure Lowry knew we’d be there that night and he told me to text him the address.”
“You walked in alone. What happened to the other woman?”
“Her married boyfriend called. When he calls that means he’s free from his wife and kids, so she has to be ready to meet him on a moment’s notice.” The image of my boss’s ex-wife crying in Saks Fifth Avenue instantly comes to mind. She continues, “I didn’t bother to text Lowry that she had cancelled.”
“He was possessive of you.”
“He feels very protective of the women in the office even if he has no interest in us.”
“When you left with him, did he think you were going home with him?”
