"You were there?"Fuck.I ran a shaky hand through my hair. I fuckingknewit. That prickle of awareness at the back of my neck hadn't been a coincidence. I knew she was near me. I could sense her.
"Nothing happened," I implored. I spread my hands, willing her to believe me. I quickly scanned through the details of that night: Lissa's hand on my thigh, whispers of dirty promises in my ear, and my stumbling out of the bar with my arm wrapped around her.
Fuck!
Before I could enquire how much she saw, Maria lifted her chin and said, "I saw you leave with her. You were practically one person. So don't lie and say you never went home with her."
Fuck my life. Of course, I couldn't deny her latter statement. I did go home with Lissa.
"Yes, I went home with her." She snorted, and I heard what suspiciously sounded like“fucking liar.”
I took a step closer, my throat closing over to plead my case. "Some things happened," I admitted. "We kissed. But I swear, I didn't sleep with her."
She made another disbelieving noise and rolled her eyes. She glanced away, her throat bobbing. A tenderness washed over me. I wished I could take her into my arms to bat her insecurities away.
"It's true," I insisted. "I didn't sleep with her –"
"Liar," she spat out.
"I didn't sleep with her because I knew I would lose any chance to be with you," I injected in a hurried flash before she could try and discredit me again.
Maria's face blanched, and her hands dropped to her sides. "What are you talking about?"
I blew out my breath, my emotions at a boiling point. "I met Lissa at a bar she was working at the same night I met Logan," I explained. "I'd never met her before, and apart from some flirting, nothing happened that night." Her mouth pinched, but she otherwise remained silent. "That night you saw us at The Homestead was the second time I'd met her."
"That must've been some heavy flirting you did with her." She checked the wall clock behind me and glanced outside. I was losing her.
"I did go to Lissa's apartment. I had every intention of sleeping with her." Her face betrayed no emotion except that bobbing in her throat again. "But I called a halt to everything when I saw a picture of you."
Her head jerked back, and her brows drew center in bewilderment. "Huh?"
I shuffled forward now that I knew I had her attention again. "I know you and Lissa are friends. Or were friends," I amendedwhen I remembered Lissa's sardonic face when she discovered my connection with Maria. "She had a picture of you two on her mantel. You were in cheerleading outfits, and the frame had the words –"
"Best friends forever," Maria finished woodenly. Her face carried an unreadable expression, and she resumed clutching her arms. Closed off.
"Yeah. As soon as I saw that photo, it was like a bomb went off in my head. I already knew I made a huge mistake in letting you go without giving us a proper shot. I also knew my chances of you dating me again were slim."
I moved closer to her until she had no choice but to look at me. Her expression was guarded, but there was a questioning look in her eyes. "But I also knew that if I went there with Lissa, any slight chance I had with you would be minus zero."
Her eyes widened slightly before her arms again dropped to her sides. "Brian..." She searched my face as I swallowed uncomfortably. A heavy ache sat in my stomach as I waited for the impact of my words to sink in. I wasn't betting on a positive response from her, but at least she wasn't making derisive noises every time I spoke.
I seemed to have rendered her speechless. I hoped she could read the sincerity in my voice, in my expression.
"Brian." She licked her lips as her eyes held mine. Her voice lost its defensive edge. "Look, I appreciate what you've told me. What you did and didn't do with Lissa is none of my business."
She didn't clarify whether she believed my words about not sleeping with Lissa, but given the gentler tone she now carried, I assumed she did.
"She and I aren't friends anymore, so even if things went further with her, it wouldn't have mattered to me." Her eyes left mine to drift around my sparse office.
It would've mattered.
I was relieved, yet I braced myself for what I sensed was an upcoming negative response.
"But the truth is," she continued as my shoulders deflated. There it was. "If I were to date you again, you have one glaring issue."
I frowned. "What's that?"
"You're a widower.”
