“After our last text? You wanted a chance?” The words he’s saying make no sense at all.
“Hell yes, I did. You’re the one who left me, Willa. I woke up alone in a fucking field of drunk assholes. And when you finally texted back, you said we could never happen. That we were too different. But—”
“We were. We are. But—” My words are interrupted by a commotion at the door. A loud group of guys enters the bar, and the bartender waves Knox over. I’m so lost, so confused. He was holding out hope? After he literally textedthat sounds like a you problemwhen I told him I was pregnant. And he hasn’t even asked about Rose—not to see a picture or anything. God, he doesn’t even know she’s a sweet baby girl with his brown eyes and thick hair. He doesn’t know her birthday or that she hates car rides. What does he think? That we can pick up where we left off, but just pretend she doesn’t exist? This is crazy, I think as he returns to our booth and holds out his hand.
“Come with me. We need to leave.”
“What? We just got here. We haven’t even talked about—”
“I know,” he says, cutting me off. “But we need to leave, like now. Follow me.”
The guys at the front are getting louder, so I follow Knox into a back hallway. He checks his phone and mutters, “Fuck,” before pushing a door open and leading me inside. I thought we’d end up in the parking lot, but we’re in a tiny little storage closet. It’s not much bigger than the makeshift office we have at Drip, but the glow of his phone shows that this place has a row of metal shelves against one wall and a stack of plastic crates against the other.
“Sorry. We need to hang here for a few.”
“What the hell is happening?” I ask.
“I’ll explain. Just, here, come sit down.”
I shuffle over and sit next to him, but the space is small, and there’s not much room. My thigh brushes his, and I shiver at the contact—not that I should, but my stupid body betrays me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I ask.
He sighs and I imagine him running his hand through his hair. “A couple weeks ago, I got in a fight here.” I open my mouth and start to speak, but he stops me by placing a finger on my lips. The gesture is strangely intimate. We haven’t had physical contact in well over a year. And though Knox’s hands have explored every inch of me, his finger on my lips feels good. Too good. He keeps talking as I try to get my hormones under control. “Just let me finish, ok? I was talking to this girl at the bar. I... knew her...and…” at his awkward wording, I roll my eyes, though it’s so dark in here I doubt he can see me well enough to notice.
“Anyway,” he continues, “her boyfriend—the one I didn’t know she had—took issue with me talking to her. That upset her, so I backed off. But he was still pissed. So pissed that when his girlfriend told him to calm down, he shoved her.”
My face registers shock. “Sounds like an asshole.”
“He is an asshole. So I decked him. Things got a little crazy, cops were called, and I may have spent the night in lock-up, but so did he. Anyway, it’s kind of a mess. But Chad—that’s the boyfriend, and yes, they’re still together—just walked in with half his frat, so Lindsay wanted me to duck out. But then Mikey, the bouncer, texted to say that a couple of Chad’s brothers are hanging out in the parking lot. So, yea... Fuck me, I’m a train wreck, but…”
“You’re not a train wreck. You were doing the right thing.”
His laugh is bitter. “I wouldn’t know the right thing if it kicked me in the dick, Willa. Except when it came to you. I knew that was right. It felt right. And then it all vanished, and I can’t lie. I lost my fucking way for a little bit.”
Again, I’m struck with the notion that this Knox—the one sitting next to me, the one whose breath is warm on my neck, whose hand keeps accidentally brushing mine, whose words are so sincere—is a million miles from the cruel Knox who pushed me and our child away so harshly without a backward glance.
“But God, I want to make it up to you. I want to be a better person when I’m with you. I want to be the guy who was worthy of your smiles, your laughter, your touches.”
He leans forward, his lips seeking mine in a kiss. For half a moment, I give in to the feel of his lips on mine. For a second, I lose myself in the sensation, before mentally shaking myself and pulling back. I want to believe his words, but I have a baby girl at home—his baby girl who he hasn’t cared enough to ask about—and I need to protect her.
My phone buzzes, waking me out of my sex-induced haze, and I check it to see a text from Ian. He’s home and he relieved Mrs. Lipton. Rose woke up and was fussing, but he let her suck on a frozen teething ring and she’s back to sleep.
News of my daughter—our daughter—is like a cold bucket of ice water on the moment. What the hell am I doing? I shouldn’t be sharing kisses in a closet with anyone, let alone with Knox.
He reaches out to pull me close. “Come home with me. We’ll stay up all night and talk and figure this out. I want to be with you, Willa. God, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed talking to you and laughing with you. And yea, I’ve missed this.” He traces my lips again. “Come home with me,” he repeats.
“No,” I say, standing and righting my skirt, knocking a crate over in the process. Damn it! How is there no light switch in here? There’s a sliver of light coming under the door from the hallway, but it’s barely enough.
“Wait. Willa, I want—”
“I know what you want, Knox. A quick, easy fuck. Just like the one you almost got yesterday before I interrupted you. God, I’m so stupid when it comes to you.”
I hear the scrape of a crate against the cement floor, and I know he’s standing in front of me. “Willa, you have to believe me. I want this, yes, but I don’t want—”
“I know, Knox. I’ve known since you texted me a year and a half ago. You don’t want us. Believe me, I received your message loud and clear.”
“What? What are you talking about?” he asks, but I’m not in the mood to rehash that last, awful conversation.
“I’m done. Please, just leave me alone. You said you would. I kept my end of the bargain, so you need to keep yours.”
