I was fully conscious, which meant I wouldn’t be falling off the table like some newborn who just learned how to roll to their belly the day before. I chose to keep that to myself because there was something about him caring for me that made my heart stumble over itself.
“I’m holding a conversation with you, Weston. That’s the literal definition of acknowledgement the last time I checked.”
“It’s not the same,” he muttered. His actual hand, not his words, trailed down my cheek until it disappeared from my body. It would have been cliché to say I immediately missed it, but I didn’t get the chance because it landed on my side above my hip bone next. The one that didn’t hurt.
My breath caught in my throat, my lungs barely able to work as his fingers gently curved around my side in a firmgrasp. And then, he stole whatever remaining breath I had in my lungs when he squeezed me.
At that point, I couldn’t do anythingbutlook at him. I needed air, but I couldn’t say that through words. Instead, I had to plead for oxygen using my other senses.
He was a lot closer than what I anticipated when I couldn’t see more than the backs of my eyelids. He was practically on top of the table, and that hand of his—God, that hand—didn’t waver as we focused on one another.
I could have sworn it tightened. That his fingertips bit into my flesh a little harder.
My heart turned to mush, and this funny feeling settled into my lower abdomen. The same one that would antagonize me whenever Lennon swooned me off my feet. Whenever he kissed that spot on my neck that drove me crazy.
Knowing Weston was the one turning my insides all gooey was the reason I blurted out my truth the very next second. “Your brother and I are breaking up.”
It was enough of a truth bomb for him to rip his hand away. He scrubbed it over his chin. “Jesus, is that why you left the party? Were you planning on breaking up with him on hisbirthday?”
I slowly sat up to my elbows, everything coming back into focus. The nausea in my stomach even seemed to dissipate some, and that was while seeing Weston’s face. That damn dull ache was still mocking me, though. Swinging back and forth in my head as it kicked its feet up high.
Weston turned on his heel. Almost like he was done giving a shit about my well-being. And I guessed that he was, because in a moment of unbridled connection, I tore him away from that and brought him back to reality.
“No, that’s not what I was planning on doing,” I hissed.
“You know, you’re turning out to be exactly who I saidearlier.” Those mean words and that angry tone were back. I hated it. That he was able to flip so quickly instead of wanting to hear me out. That he never once questioned Lennon more deeply—which was good for him, but it definitely wasn’t doing me any favors.
I mean, Weston had to know me better than that. Maybe he just didn’t want to see me as the good person I was. Maybe someone hurt him. Tore his heart from his chest and replaced it with a rock. A jagged, cold stone from the top of Mount McKinley, the coldest mountain top in the world.
A humorless laugh worked itself out of me as I sat up farther and swung my legs over the side of the table. I rested my feet on a chair that was tucked under it and held on to the edge of the wooden surface to keep steady. “I tell you that your brother and I are going nowhere fast, and I’m immediately the one responsible for it?”
“Who else would be the cause?”
That time I really did laugh, tossing my head back before settling back on him and tossing him one freshly manicured finger. “Fuck you, Weston.”
“I already tol?—”
“I don’t give a shit what you’ve already said.” I carefully hopped off the table, knowing that I had to be careful and take it slow considering my fainting spell. If I wasn’t careful, my headache would come back in full force, returning with a vengeance, and possibly be even worse.
So much for that medicine.
I should have left the office entirely, foregoing those small orange pills and taking them at Lennon’s instead.
A mistake I’d never make again if I had any control of the matter.
“And for the record, it’snoton me that we’re practically over,” I said as I slowly stepped toward the bathroom. Itwasn’t that far away, maybe a solid ten steps, but I needed space and distance from my boss, who was also a total and completeasshole.
I would never allow my body to feel an iota of warmth from him again. Even if it tried to push in, I’d tell it to stand down. And it’d listen, damn it.
“That’s on him. It’s on him and his inability to commit toonewoman. It’s on him for his lack of conscience. It’s on him for flirting and getting handsy and making himself available to women who aren’t me. It’s on him”—I fisted my hands at my sides because I was barely holding on—“for letting me catch him in notonequestionable situation butmany—most of which happened under this very goddamn roof.Yourroof. So, the next time you want to accusemeof being unfaithful and looking at other men, why don’t you ask your brotherhow many conversations we’ve had regarding his inability to give me his attention, his commitment, hishonesty.”
I stomped into the bathroom before he could respond, slammed the door, and twisted the lock.
6
OLIVIA
The rain was back.
