Page 109 of P.S. I'm Still Yours

“You, too” is the last thing I say before he walks out.

* * *

I wish I could say everything went back to normal after the burnt omelet incident.

Unfortunately for me, our almost kiss opened up a whole new can of worms. I’ve been on this hamster wheel of thinking about Kane, getting all hot and bothered and hating myself for it ever since.

That night opened my eyes to the sizzling attraction I still feel for him.

I want him.

Just physically, but still.

And I take it from the way his cock strained against his pants that he wants me, too. Even if just for one night. I’ve done a pretty good job at pretending like what happened didn’t faze me, and Kane?

Kane did what he always does.

He went back to avoiding me.

Five days have gone by, and believe it or not, I’ve found Ania’s critiques to be a nice little distraction from reality. I welcome the long shifts now. I’ve even agreed to fill in for Jamie, who has a dentist appointment next weekend. Anything to stay out of the house.

The first floor is empty when I unlock the front door at around 8:00 p.m. I can hear Mom and Evie laughing uncontrollably in the backyard.

They’ve been having the time of their lives reconnecting, going to the country club and going on all sorts of adventures—they’re already planning a trip to Virginia to visit a bunch of vineyards next summer.

I may not be a fan of sharing a house with Kane, but I’m happy for my mom. I can take a couple months sleeping down the hall from the boy who broke my heart if it means Mom gets her best friend back.

I take the stairs two at a time on the way to my bedroom. I was hoping to do a little painting before bed. I haven’t finished the one of the storm.

As much as I hate to admit it, the way Kane’s mouth felt grazing my neck isn’t all I’ve taken away from that night. I’ve also been thinking about what he said.

About me giving up on my dreams.

After giving it a lot of consideration, I’ve decided to publish my website and give my dream a real try.

I’ve been sitting on the domain I bought for years, and I intend to get it up and running once I figure out how to complete the website design.

I pad down the hall toward the sunroom. I’ve pretty much claimed the room as my painting studio in the past two days. Although, I’d have no problem moving if Kane wanted to use the piano.

But that would require him playing music, and his mom let slip that he hasn’t been writing as much since he got here—something that’s highly unusual for Kane.

She’s worried sick about it. The guy supposedly pops out at least four to five songs a week, but lately? He hasn’t even wanted to touch his guitar. Or a piano, for that matter.

I get that he’s supposed to be taking a break from the industry, but his mom never would’ve thought he’d want a break from music, too.

I turn the corner a few minutes later, push the door to the sunroom open, and flick the light on.

I gasp when I see the supplies.

There are paint tubes, canvases stacked against the wall, and brand-new sets of paintbrushes laid out on the table.

I could never afford so many supplies.

Not even in my wildest dreams.

I approach the table and notice there’s a piece of paper on it.

I immediately know who’s behind this.