My voice squeaks like a timid mouse. “Great.” I force down a gulp of coffee, nearly choking as it struggles down my throat. “Um, we should probably…talk.”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “Probably should.”
We stare.
I don’t know if I want to burst into tears, laugh maniacally, or run into his arms naked. All three of those things at once would definitely distract from the conversation I don’t know how to have.
Instead, we both speak at the same time.
“Are you okay?”
“Are you on the pill?”
My cheeks heat. Memories ambush me: grating piano keys, fusing with moans. Skin slapping together. The way he turned gentle, cradling my cheek in a soft hand while his tongue made love to my mouth, pulling every feelingout of me.
We were impulsive.
Irresponsible.
So beautiful it hurts.
I study him glowing underneath the chandelier, his image distorting as tears prick my eyes. My lips tremble through a nod. “Yes. I’m on the pill. And…I’m clear too. You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve been tested.”
Relief loosens his shoulders, easing the lines of tension on his brow as he stands from the stool and slides his mug away. “Okay.” The planes of his chest and thick biceps stretch the material of a white T-shirt when he presses forward on the island, a pair of dark-wash jeans slung low on his hips. “And I’m fine, Nicks,” he says, answering my question.
I discard the coffee mug, my hands not qualified to hold anything as they quiver with raw nerves and crippling anxiety. “Okay…good. That’s good.”
I’ve never had a morning-after conversation before. Not really. My first time was with Jameson, and we’d already been dating for three months before we slept together. There was nothing to discuss aside from what we wanted to have for breakfast. “Should I get bagels?”
Slowly, Lex raises his chin. “Bagels?”
“Sure. You know…or bialys. They’re delicious. There’s that deli down the street that has all the different homemade cream cheeses: maple and pecan, jalapeño and cilantro, and there’s even a dill pickle—”
“Nicks.”
My eyes round, glazed and terrified. “Yes?”
He rubs a hand down his face, bracketing his jaw as he releases a long sigh. “I’m going to lose my fucking mind if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking.”
Chest seizing, I wring my hands together in front of me, sweat dappling my hairline. He’s gazing at me with the weight of a trillion anchors trying to pull us under.
I let out a breath and cautiously make my way around the island, approaching him, my bare feet thudding across the porcelain tile. I wet my lips. “What happened between us?” I whisper, desperate to know what he’s thinking too. The lines are so smudged and blurred, there’s no going back to what this was.The facade has crumbled, the curtains wrenched wide open.
He drops his arm at his side. “You know what happened,” he says, another hard swallow working his throat. “The question is can you live with it?”
I don’t know how to answer that.
My eyes trail his spacious condo, so lifeless and bare. The city sparkles outside the window, already alive with early-morning commuters and a lifestyle I’m not certain I want anymore. Then I glance back at Lex. The man who gave himself to me yesterday, all while I had one foot out the door of his heart.
I thought it was over, that there was no coming back from the crushing disappointment I’d felt at that dinner table. That moment had been the trigger, the spark, igniting all the thoughts and feelings I’d suppressed since he walked out of my life four years ago.
But now…
“I think what happened was inevitable,” I reply, trying to make sense of my upside-down mind. “We have history together, and we were pretending to date while living under the same roof. It was bound to happen eventually.”
He studies me, unpacking every word. “So you’re saying it was just sex.”
“No.” My eyes pop. “We both know it was more than that. I just don’t know where we’re supposed to go from here.” I inhale a stuttered breath. “Do you?”
