Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
I feel exposed and lost. It’s the worst kind of fragility. I want to cry and hide from the world. Guilt washes over me. Did I do this? Is this my fault?
“Anna.” It’s a plea like he’s asking for permission or validation.
I stiffen, releasing him, but I can’t look him in the eye. “I, uh … need to shower. I have a huge project to finish. And I need to, uh…” I scramble, reaching for my crutches “…nail this for the best chance of getting that job in Spain.”
“Anna?”
I make it to standing in record time, distancing myself from Shaun. When I can’t help but look at him, he gives me a sad smile, shoulders slumped.
“I didn’t mean to make you—”
“You didn’t make me anything. I’m so sorry about your mom. You have to feel out of sorts right now. I know that feeling all too well. I’m kinda still struggling with my life too. If you want to talk, I’m here. But I think you know the right thing to do is go back and be with your mom and your sister.”
And never kiss me like that again.
Resting his elbows on his knees, Shaun bows his head. “I’m sorry, Anna.”
“Nothing to apologize for.” I make my way to the stairs. “We’re good. It’s all … good.”
It’s not.
It’s as far from good as things can be. I can’t stay here.
Later that night, Shaun knocks on my bedroom door. “Dinner.”
“Uh … I’m not hungry, but thanks.”
“Anna, open the door.”
I sigh. The chances of moving out without facing him again are slim, so I open the door and hobble back to my bed, sitting on the end of it. I feel his gaze on me, but I don’t want to look at him. When he doesn’t say anything, I’m forced to look up.
“I’m so sorry I made you uncomfortable.” He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms.
“You weren’t in your right mind. It’s fine.”
“You’re hiding in your room; it’s not fine.”
I frown because anything else would be a lie, and we both know it. “It was unexpected,” I murmur.
“I’m sorry it was unexpected, and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable—”
“I said it’s fine. You were—”
“Anna, let me finish.”
Pressing my lips together, I give him a tiny nod.
“I’m not sorry I did it. I’m not sorry about my feelings for you. I needed to know how you felt about me, and now I do. We’re good. I don’t want things to be awkward.”
I shake my head. “Feelings for me? What are you talking about? Earlier, you were confused, grieving the imminent loss of your mother, and you—”
“Felt vulnerable enough to do what I’ve wanted to do for many months.”
My lips part, but words escape me. He’s wanted to do this for months?
Shaun sighs. “I thought there was something there, just under the surface. Since you’ve been here, we’ve clicked. We laugh and joke with each other. We make meals together. We like the same movies. I loved that you helped me so much with the remodel. It turned out perfect. Clearly, I was wrong about us. But I had to know.”
Truth?
I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought of Shaun in a romantic way, but those thoughts felt wrong and were always fleeting. Making dinner together did start to feel natural and domestic. Sometimes I’d see him by the pool with his shirt off, and I took notice. He’s handsome and fit. His peppering of gray in his whiskers and sideburns only makes him sexier.
When he’s had women spend the night (which hasn’t been often), I’ve heard them, and it was impossible to keep from wondering what it would be like to be with him in that way. But … but … that’s it. They were thoughts. Innocent thoughts that went no further than my mind.
“Say something, Anna.”
“It’s not crazy. And … I don’t know. Maybe, under different circumstances, I would have been more receptive to the idea of us being more. But …”
“Eric is the but.”
I nod.
“Are you two a thing now? I can’t see you in a long-distance relationship. And I thought you were hoping to go to Spain.”
I lift my gaze to his. “Were you … I mean, if I had the same feelings for you now, were you going to try and talk me out of the job if it was … is offered to me?”
“Of course not.” His head jerks backward.
“Then why? Why go there now when you know I might be moving?”
“Jesus, Anna …” He pushes off the side of the doorframe and runs his hands through his hair. “If you felt about me the way I feel about you, I’d pack my bags and follow you to Spain. I just want to be with you.”
The wrong guy is saying the right thing. My heart sinks.