“Really?” Her excitement hits me right in my solar plexus. Fuck, I miss her. I miss them.
“Only if you promise not to tell anyone.”
She remains silent for a few beats. “I promise, under duress.”
I laugh. “Let the record show I did not pressure the witness.”
“Agree to disagree. I miss you, bro, so I will play by your rules, but that doesn’t mean I agree with them.”
“Duly noted. I’ll call you later this week.”
“Wait, don’t go yet. You made me spill the beans about my dating life, and you didn’t share shit.”
“There is nothing to share. I haven’t been out with anyone in weeks.” If I don’t count the woman who stubbornly pushes me away. The only woman I want to go out with.
What?
I want to go out with her? When did I upgrade my interest from the bedroom? Fuck.
“Don’t tell me you are now avoiding human contact like Liam?”
Our brother has been chronically anti-social for the past ten years. Not in a dramatic way—just slowly shutting everyone out like it became his hobby.
“No, I’m just not interested lately.”
“Oh my God, you met someone!”
How did she get that from my generic answer? “No. Yes. Kind of.”
“And you’re stuttering. I hit the nail on the head. Who is she? Is it serious? Do I know her?”
“Stop with the twenty questions. There is nothing to share. She is not interested.”
The last time I felt like a failure was before my self-inflicted exile from San Francisco. It’s infuriating that the less I score with Cora, the more I want to win. At this point, I don’t even know if it’s an attraction or just petulance.
Somewhere, deep down, I feel her rejection is half-hearted, based on some bullshit she made herself believe.
She wants me, and I want to show her she doesn’t have to deny herself. It feels—let’s face it, I don’t know enough about her life—like she’s been denying herself a lot.
“I want to meet her.” Lottie sounds annoyingly excited.
“Did you hear I say she is not interested?”
“That’s why I want to be her friend.” She practically squeals with delight. “I wish she lived here.”
“That’s just cruel, Lottie.”
She gasps. “You really like her.”
I’d like to bury myself in her, breathe Cora’s scent until I’m high on it, touch her until she is desperate for more, claim her until she screams my name. That’s what I’d like to do.
“I have to go, Lottie; I’ll talk to you later.” I disconnect the call before she can interrogate me further.
Someone knocks, and I whip around, plastering a smile on my face as if I were in the mood for visitors.
Lindsay sticks her head in the door. “Would you like me to get you lunch before the partner’s meeting?”
“No, thank you. I’m going to hit the gym.”
