Page 35 of Sweet as Sin (Bad Habit 1)
He wasn’t about to let me out of that one.
And then it was Saturday. My birthday.
Twenty-six years old. How the hell did that happen? Eighteen to twenty-five had gone by so fast, I felt like if I blinked, I’d wake up and be two hundred.
Every year, I’d dreaded my birthday as if it were an impending visit to the gynecologist to check on a suspicious-looking vaginal sore. So of course I didn’t come right out and tell Nico it was my birthday. He’d had to drag it out of me.
“So. Tonight.”
That was his way of asking me on another date. Or our first official date, or whatever. I wasn’t sure exactly how I was going to count the next one point five dates, but I’d figure that out when I got there. He called me first thing Saturday morning, making me wake up with a smile.
I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes, dying for coffee. “I can’t tonight. I’m busy. I’ve got a . . . thing.”
“A thing? I haven’t seen you in two days, we got another one and a half dates to get down to, and now you have a thing?”
He didn’t sound happy. The man hated not getting his way.
“It’s . . . me and Chloe and Grace are doing a girls’ night. That’s all.”
“Oh. Cool. Saturday is the girls’ regular get-together night?”
“Um, no, you know, it’s just whenever we can. Everyone’s schedule is so tight, and Chloe works all these crazy hours because of the flower shop, so we . . . just try and make it a priority to see each other.” I cleared my throat. “Whenever we can.”
I heard a low, menacing grumble. “You already said that. You gonna tell me what the deal is, Kat, or am I gonna have to come over there and make you tell me?”
He’d emphasized the word “make.” I wasn’t sure if I should have been scared or turned on. Either way, a little thrill went through me.
“Okay. It’s . . . kind of my birthday today. And the three of us spend it together every year. So. That’s it.”
I could have sworn a crackle of electricity burned through the phone. “Your birthday. And you were gonna tell me about this when?”
Bossy. I made a face at the phone, and tried to sound innocent. “I’m telling you about it now.”
“Yeah, and I had to pull a few teeth to do it, too. What’s that about?”
Why did he have to be so observant? I could never get away with the tiniest bit of avoidance with him. Most other men I’d known were too oblivious to the nuances of a woman’s voice or expression to recognize trouble signs, but Nico was like a hunting dog with a champion nose. He didn’t miss anything.
“I’m guessin’ by you bein’ quiet that means you don’t wanna talk about it.”
I almost sighed in relief. I should’ve known better.
“Which is exactly why we’re gonna talk about it. Trust, Kat. Remember?”
Fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck!
After another moment of silence on my end, Nico said, “You still with me on that?”
Yes. I was. And holy hell was it hard.
“Okay. Here’s the thing, Nico. I have a lot of sad stories. But I’m not the kind of person who thinks talking about them is a good idea. Dwelling doesn’t help. Feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t help. Brooding on all the bad shit that’s happened only makes it worse. So, I don’t dwell. I don’t brood. I learn my lesson and move on.”
Nico waited quietly for a moment before speaking. “Got it. You don’t like to dwell, so we won’t dwell. But you’re still gonna tell me what happened on your birthday that makes you not like it.”
I heard the determination in his voice. From prior experience, I knew this was only going to go one way: his. So as long
as we weren’t going to dwell, I might as well cough it up.
Trust. Right?
