Without her heels on, I tower over her.
We stare for a few beats. My hand still covers hers when she whispers, “Abi was a fool to let you go.”
I don’t know where it comes from, but my response is automatic. “Lucas was a fool to letyougo.”
Her brows crease. “Why were you always so quiet around me?”
“I never knew what to say.”
“I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I like you.”
“Really?”
“Plenty.”
“Oh.”
We keep staring. Her blue eyes hold mine, and it’s impossible to look away. The tip of her nose and cheeks are flushed pink from the cold, and her red lips look impossibly soft. I shouldn’t,but I can’t help but imagine running my fingers through her hair, tugging her close, and kissing her.
The things I imagine those lips doing to me.
Resisting the urge to reach out and touch this woman is proving fucking impossible.
How could Lucas mess this up so badly?
Blinking, I snap out of the trance. I quickly remove my hand from hers, as if her touch scorches. She releases her grip on the bottle. Looking away, I run my fingers through my hair. April releases the bottle and drops her hand to the counter.
“I don’t think wine is a good idea,” I say. Not because I don’t want any—believe me, I do. But I know if we share a few glasses together, there isn’t a chance in hell I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself.
Her eyes drop to the floor, sad.
“How about tea instead?” I ask.
She clears her throat. “Yes, of course. Is breakfast fine?”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck.
“Take a seat, and I’ll bring it over.”
“Sure.”
As April prepares the tea, I can’t shake the tension hovering in the air. I glance around the room, my mind reeling after what the fuck just happened. Surely, I can’t be the only one who felt it—that charged energy every time we lock eyes or touch.
As I wait, I notice how much of Lucas still remains in this room. I didn’t notice it when I checked on Basil. But now, my attention snags on one of his favourite books,Wolf Hallby Hilary Mantel, sitting on the entertainment unit next to a potted peace lily that looks worse for wear. His old red scarf and leather work satchel still hang on the wooden coat rack by the front door. I can’t help but wonder why he left those things behind if he never planned to return—and why she hasn’t moved them since.
I shake my head and mutter to myself, “Fuck.Why am I here?”
April returns with the tea and hands it to me. We sit wordlessly, the only sound our soft sips and swallows as we drink.
“I need to thank you,” she begins, “for bringing me home. For listening … for everything. I’m sorry you got caught up in all of this.” She circles her finger in the air. “I know it puts you in an awkward spot. He’s your brother—you probably shouldn’t even be talking to me.”
I place my mug on the coffee table, cupping both knees. I don’t understand why she feels the need to apologise.
I’mthe one who insisted on taking her home when she could have easily slid into an Uber with Anna.
I’mthe one who got out of the Uber and insisted on coming inside. She’s done nothing wrong. If anything,I’mthe one behaving inappropriately.
