Page 24 of Passing Notes
He shrugged. His mood had shifted into one I’d never experienced with him in the past. He was dejected, cynical, cold.
I didn’t know how to react, so I kept quiet.
“Lying is pointless,” he added.
“Ironic, isn’t it? Considering the situation we just found ourselves in.” I tried to catch his eyes and failed.
“Secrets aren’t the same as lies,” he insisted. “Who would we be hurting?”
“You mean besides ourselves, potentially?”
A small grin tipped up the corner of his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “So what about you?” he asked. “Married? Divorced? I assume you’re single right now, yes?”
“Obviously, I’m single.” His attitude was getting to me. Was he trying to accuse me of something? “I’m not a liar, and I always do what I say I’m going to do. And no, I’ve never been married.”
“Just out there breaking hearts then?”
“You know it.” I scowled as my mood flipped from feeling protective of him to angry at what he had implied about me. As if I’d volunteer to be his date if I was seeing someone. “It’s my favorite pastime.”
“I guess me joining you on the porch for a chat right now is not gonna happen.”
“You’re smart for a man.”
He placed his hand over his heart. “Ouch.”
“Don’t worry, Nicky. Unlike your ex, I rarely shoot to kill. I think you’ll survive.”
“I’m sorry, okay? Morgan pushes my buttons. I’m exhausted, and you’re getting to me. You left Green Valley and didn’t look back and I—” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, leaving it there as his mouth twisted into a frown. “I don’t know how to feel about it is all. First, we almost kissed on the balcony, then you kicked me out. You defended me just now and then pushed me away. You’re confusing as hell, Clara.”
“It’s fine. It’s whatever.” I took a page from his ex’s playbook and waved a hand in dismissal. “Feel whatever you want to feel.”
“I—never mind. This isn’t the time. I need a damn nap.”
I watched his fine ass as he headed up his walkway to his own porch where he sat in the cute wicker rocking chair I had been admiring ever since it had been delivered. He pulled out his phone, then put his feet on the railing as he pretended to peruse whatever was on the screen as he watched me from the corner of his eye, the big hot stupid jerk.
Were we playing games now?
I couldn’t figure him out. But then again, how could I when I wasn’t even sure about my own feelings? Well, at least one feeling was clear: I was mad at him again. We definitely needed to talk, but now I didn’t want to. Again. Damn it.
He had no idea who he was messing with. The sweet little Clara he used to know was buried so deep beneath the pieces of the heart he had broken that I doubted she’d ever find her way out again. And this Clara only played to win.
I, Lavender Lane stripper, walked up the steps and slid out of my robe. Never had I been more grateful for Lululemon’s vast array of sexy athleisure wear. I blew him a kiss as I sat down, lifting a foot up to the railing to push the swing while glaring at him from the corner of my eye.
I reached for my phone and scrolled to the local nursery’s web page to order an entire buttload of plants for Sasha to enjoy on her porch. She was sweet, she deserved to be surrounded by pretty things, and Nick deserved to take care of them all.
Figure out how to keep a fiddle-leaf fig and a few Alocasia alive, you arrogant asshat.
I glanced up. He was waving me over. “I’m sorry,” he called. “I mean it.”
As if.
“I’m busy,” I hollered back at his grumpy ass. “Take a nap and maybe I’ll reconsider talking to you at some point.”
I scrolled back to the page and added a watering can, a Boston fern, and a pothos. It was hard not to muah ha ha ha out loud, but I managed. My eyes drifted over the ever-growing collection of greenery on my porch and throughout my yard. Plants could be persnickety; keeping them alive took time and knowledge. He’d find out.
Shots fired. Bang.
Yeah, so it was plants and not something truly mean. He had kids and they were nice. And damn, the man looked exhausted. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything truly hurtful.
