Both brunettes look disappointed, but Misty leads Bernie back to the swings. “But, Mom…”
“Let’s get this over with,” I say and lead Chanel down the sidewalk toward my house.
“My car—”
“Will still be there when we’re done talking. My place isn’t that far.”
She pouts. “I’m in heels.”
“Your choice, not mine.”
“You could carry me.”
“You could take them off.”
I know she doesn’t like that suggestion. She’s wearing stockings, and she’d rip holes in them if she did that. How dare I suggest such a thing?
It almost makes me laugh.
Nothing is said between us the entire block and a half to my house, and it’s awkward. She used to be my comfort, and now I don’t know how to act around her.
We reach my porch, and I turn to her. “We walked away for—”
Chanel’s lips crash onto mine. The kiss that used to feel like home tastes bitter. Like betrayal.
“That’s not talking,” I say, pushing her away.
She frowns with tears in her eyes. “Am I too late?”
“Too late? Too late for what?”
“Us.”
All I can do is blink at her for a few moments as I process this. The diamond on her finger glints off the sun, and I point at it. “You’re engaged, Chanel.”
“Tell me you still love me, and I’ll leave him.”
Tell her I love her, andthenshe’ll leave him? Fucking hell. She will not make a decision until she knows for certain she has someone to fall back on. The moment I stop being a sure thing, she wants to come back. But only if I’ll take care of her.
God, not having me waiting around like I always was must be killing her. Driving her absolutely fucking crazy. And I kind of love it.
“You just can’t be alone, can you?”
She frowns and crosses her arms. “Who wants to be alone? I love you, Zep. It feels wrong not being with you.”
“You didn’t have a problem not being with me while you went off to build your fantasy life with Dorian. No, it doesn’t feel wrong being without me. You’re horny and haven’t gotten fucked the way you like since I told you to fuck off.”
“That’s not true.”
“Which part?”
And that’s the moment. I see it all so clearly now. Something I probably always knew deep down but didn’t want to see. Now that I know what real love looks like, this doesn’t even begin to compare.
“I love you—”
“No, you don’t. What we have isn’t love. It’s comfort. Familiar. But that doesn’t work for me anymore.”
“Let me get naked for you, and we can test that out,” she says, reaching for the door.
