It’s some small consolation that she sees HandsyGuy as an important part of her life, but that will change in an instant if she finds out we’re the same person.
DogPerson158:Oh, no. You’re mad. Please don’t be mad. I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to tell me to stop seeing him, because I’m having so much fun. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had fun? It’s selfish, but I wanted to keep both of you, so I didn’t tell you the whole truth, but I also didn’t make you any promises. That doesn’t make it better. I’m a horrible, selfish person. But I promise from now on, I won’t keep a secret like this from you again.
I can’t tell her. Telling her would be taking away two people she very clearly needs in her life while she deals with an ex who might want custody of her child.
I can’t deprive her of my fun.
And maybe…No, not maybe, definitely I can convince her I’m more than just a good-time guy. I can step up and be who she needs me to be. Because, for the first time in my life I want to be more. I want to have a relationship with this woman that’s meaningful and long-lasting.
And I can convince her I’m the right guy for her.
I just can’t let her find out the truth about who I really am. Not ever.
I slap my hands together. My heart still hurts, but I have a plan. A foolproof plan to win Amelia Burns’ heart.
HandsyGuy37:I’m not mad at all. You have a right to your personal life, and you’re under no obligation to share anything with me. I’m happy for you and your guy, even if it’s not serious.
DogPerson158:Thanks for understanding. I don’t know how long we’ll last. There’s no way he won’t find out about my daughter and I figure he’ll be outta here as soon as he does.
See, I’ve already learned an important bit of information. If I want to win Amelia over, I have to be willing to do things on her terms, and I have to accept her daughter. Or pretend I don’t know she has a daughter. One or the other.
Cash barges into the room, his expression grim. “Millie scheduled our lives, man. You need to come down and approve the plan.”
I stare at him. “Already? It’s only been what? Fifteen minutes?”
“Twenty,” Cash says. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no way Ryland and Sebastian aren’t going to insist we hire her on the spot. I’m so screwed.”
“Yeah, you weren’t exactly subtle about being into her.”
He runs a hand over his face. “I’m going to have to figure out how to cover that if I’m going to be one of her bosses for, like, forever probably.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “You don’t even know her. There’s probably a million things you’ll hate about her.”
His grim demeanor lightens a bit. “You’re right. There’s no such thing as love at first sight, anyway. She’s just a beautiful woman. She’s not my soul mate.”
I slap his back and follow him out of the room. I hope, for his sake and the sake of the business, he’s right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Amelia
Bryson looks exactly the same as he did when he walked out on us over four years ago. Except now his hair is neatly trimmed and he’s clean shaven. He’s wearing a polo with his jeans instead of a concert t-shirt, and his smile looks open and nervous, rather than tense and forced, as it so often looked in the last few months we were together.
A few heads turn as he crosses the restaurant. Maybe locals who remember him, but more likely just people checking him out. He’s always been handsome, and he’s even more handsome now. Not because any of his features have changed, but because of the way he carries himself confidently.
He also looks like he’s built some extra muscle. He’s definitely bulkier than when we dated.
But as he stops next to our table, I don’t feel any attraction to him. Just fondness and exasperation and fear. That last part is new, but fondness and exasperation were constant feelings I had around him once the love had died.
“You look good,” he says, clearly waiting for something.
“I’m not going to get up and hug you, Bryson,” I say, exasperation taking the lead. “You’re still the guy who abandoned me when I was eight months pregnant with our baby.”
Instead of getting frustrated, as he would have done four years ago, his smile widens as he pulls out his chair and sits. “I always loved your bluntness. I never had to wonder where I stood with you.”
“You hated my bluntness,” I say. “Don’t tell me you’ve become one of those people who sugarcoats the past.”
“I never hated—”
