The way she looked. So open and vulnerable. Biting that infernal bottom lip. She waseverything.Fucking amazing. More than anything I’d ever wanted—and yet, the ease with which she walked away made it obvious she didn’t feel the same.
I was a stupid, pathetic, jealous man. Angry and stupid, reacting to the situation with the highest emotional duress because I wasn’t used to her making me feel so many damn things. I’d fucked myself over before I could even process stopping long enough to realize what I was doing. Instead, I pushed her away, sounding like a complete hotheaded wanker.
I really am a jackass.
My watch reflected off the lights in the closet, reminding me it was after nine. I pathetically stood by the door, clinging to the hope she would come back. The only way to move forward—the only way we could come back from this—was if I apologized.
I couldn’t lose her friendship.
It caused a physical pain in my chest to think about losing any part of her, but before we were anything, we were friends. I’d take that over nothing. I wouldn’t survive if we were mere acquaintances, giving each other barely a nod as we passed in the grocery store. I needed her in my life; she was such a large part of everything that was good. So good that I found it practically impossible to even imagine myself without her.
I fucked up. I fucked it all up.
I’m so sorry, Emma.
I made my way out of the hotel and to my truck, still holding her shoes. I whispered the apology to the dark night sky in the hopes she’d find it in her heart, regardless of our situation, to keep me in her life. I couldn’t lose her.
I refused to lose her.
Chapter 24
Iwalked the lengthof my living room, wearing tracks on the sage carpet with my bare feet.
Back and forth.
Sigh.
Back and forth.
Repeat.
I’d been pacing for the better part of an hour, thinking about everything. The small room and every interaction I’d had with Miller before and after played like a time loop. I assessed the situation with clinical precision, refusing to let my emotions cloud the facts.
Pathetic.
That was what I was.
Pathetic for running away instead of confronting my feelings.
Pathetic for thinking he was anything but my perfect match.
Pathetic for being scared.
I turned around, trekking the same path once again and berating myself for not turning back as soon as I made it out of the ballroom. Cowardly thoughts plagued my mind, making my hands tremble as I paced. I prided myself on my ability to apply reason and logic to every situation, but with matters pertaining tohim,I was shockingly short-sighted.
I turned in a circle and groaned, pulling another bobby pin out of my hair and tossing it onto the coffee table.
Minerva weaved between my legs, but when I didn’t reach down to scratch her head, she pranced to the corner and climbed to the top of her cat tree, flicking her tail in annoyance. But I still didn’t cease my pacing, my mood shifting from anger to sadness at that brown-eyed bastard the longer my feet continued the path. After all we shared, he better not think I’d just drop him like a bad outfit.
Miller had put so much effort intoshowingme how he felt, I owed him the same consideration.
Oh, my God.
Could he think that I didn’t return his feelings?
What reason have you given him to think otherwise?
Was I that detached?
