My chin trembles. It’s so hard to look at him.
I wipe my eyes and realize my fingers are smudged black with eyeliner and mascara. I frown.
“You look beautiful,” he assures, as if reading my mind.
“No, I don’t,” I pout.
“I like your hair, too. And that dress. You look like... you know guys now.”
“Shut up,” I whine. “Please stop being nice to me. Ihateyou.”
Because that’s what I want. To hate him.
He guides me to the pool’s edge and lets go. His gaze sweeps down, stealing a glance at my nearly naked body. Our eyes lock for a moment, the intensity between us burns. But without a second look, his fingers tug my dress down, covering my body.
He lifts me effortlessly from the water. I sit on the ledge, dripping, trembling, staring down at him.
He kisses my knee gently, like he still likes me, every word and caress a tease of what could have been.
I scowl. “Looks like you got a great life here, partying in a penthouse. Screwing OnlyFans girls,” I say bitterly.
“I’m crew. Not a participant.”
I roll my eyes.
He pulls himself out of the pool and sits on the edge with me. We stare at the ocean.
His fingertips skim over mine, but I jerk my hand away.
“I told you, don’t touch me.”
“When did you start drinking?” he deflects, like he has any right to ask.
But I reply curtly, “When my life imploded. Brax went to prison. I lost Atticus... lost you.”
He sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. Look... I, uh, I have so much I want to tell you.” He swallows hard. He’s struggling to even look at me.
He seemsnervous.
My heart begins to race because I haven’t seen him like this before.
“What is it?” I ask.
He breathes in deep. “The last time I saw you... I—”
“Grayson,” a woman’s voice interrupts.
I look over my shoulder.
Meghan.
“Of course,” I mumble under my breath, feeling so stupid for second-guessing myself. I scramble to my feet and rush past her.
“Charlotte. Stop!”
I don’t look back. I just need to get away from him. He’s like pain in human form. Every time I get close, he burns me.
Keysha holds the door open, and the elevator outside pings.
