Page 101 of The Plus One Professional
“Morning.”
Her energy was different than I’d ever seen. She seemed on edge. I’d never seen her on edge even when brides were hysterically screaming at her, grooms went missing, and bridesmaids ripped their dresses seconds before they were meant to walk down the aisle, all of which I’d witnessed.
Before my ass even hit the seat, she’d sprung up out of hers like a snake in a can. “Do you want coffee?”
Her behavior was setting off alarm bells. Last night, I’d thought we’d made a breakthrough. She was single. I was single. We both missed each other and wanted to be together. Sure, we hadn’t declared our undying love to each other, but it was a start. And for the record, I would have been more than happy to tell her that I loved her. Hell, I had to stop myself from doing just that.
Without waiting for me to respond, she poured the coffee and set the mug in front of me as Whiskey curled up on my lap.
“She doesn’t usually like people. Men, especially.”
A crooked grin lifted as I repeated what she’d called me; “I’m the cat whisperer, remember?”
Her brow furrowed a tiny bit before her eyes widened. I couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing that she was most likely recalling the moment when she pointed at her crotch and called me that, which, for the record, I’d thought was fucking adorable.
She shook her head and shook her hands out in front of her as she walked to the sink, then to the fridge.
“Is everything okay? You seem…wound up.”
“I think, um, yeah, we need to talk.”
In the history of the world, had anything good ever followed those four words?
“Okay.”
She walked back and sat down. After taking a deep breath, she licked her lips and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her foot was tapping on the white and black checkered tile. Her gaze dropped down to her hands, which were wringing in front of her on the table.
I leaned forward and covered both of her hands with mine. My thumb caressed her wrist, and I could feel her heartbeat racing wildly. “Hey.”
Her gaze lifted to meet mine.
“Whatever it is, it’s okay. It’s me. Just say it.”
As she looked into my eyes, I saw her own eyes tearing up. Before I could say anything, she pulled her hands back from mine.
Inside, I braced myself to hear—it’s not you, it’s me.
“This would be a lot easier if you weren’t so…disarming.”
Disarming?That was a new one. I wasn’t sure why that was a bad thing, but from the look on her face, she definitely considered that it was.
“Last night, I was drinking because of how upset I was that you were at the wedding with Charli.”
“I told you, that was a job?—”
She lifted her hand to silence me. “I know. I know it was. But when I thought it wasn’t, I finished off a bottle and a half of wine by myself.”
“I thought you said the first bottle was only half full.”
Her brow creased. “Did I? Well, apparently, being drunk does not actually make you tell the truth.”
I couldn’t help but grin, even though I felt like Mike Tyson was using my nut sack as a speedbag, because I was pretty sure she was breaking up with me, not that we’d even been together.
She took a breath. “The point is, I don’t think we should see each other.”
“Why? Why not?” It wasn’t the most poetic of responses, but I felt like I was going to puke.
“I have wasted the past twenty-plus years pining after a man who was not right for me.”
