Close call.
We went outside and I walked her to her car. “I’ll see you at home,” she said.
“Yeah. See you at home.”
I backed up a few steps while she got in and watched her pull out of her space and drive away.
See you at home.
That phrase sent a sense of warmth spreading through my chest.
There was a very uncomfortable truth brewing inside me—something I kept trying to deny. I liked Penelope. A lot.
And not as a friend.
CHAPTER 22
Penelope
Everything was fine.
I went inside and hung my purse on the hook by the door. At least the meeting with Sean was over. There was still the issue of my furniture and the other things I’d left behind, but now that I’d seen him—faced him and stood my ground—it didn’t seem so daunting.
Closure. Closure was good.
Unfortunately, I had the opposite of closure with Theo.
One fake kiss should not have sent my emotions into a tailspin. Sitting with him and talking—like friends—had helped. But the memory of his kiss remained, warm and visceral.
I went to the kitchen to meal prep for the week. I needed lunches, but more importantly, I needed to keep busy.
Theo’s truck pulled up outside and my stomach fluttered. It felt like middle school all over again. I’d had a crush on a boy named Peter. A very unrequited rush. He’d been an athlete—cute and popular. Me? Not so much. In those days, the cool jocks never went for the awkward nerd girls.
They probably didn’t when you were in your thirties, either.
I startled at the sound of the front door. Which was so silly. I’d heard him drive up. There was no reason for me to be surprised by his entrance.
He shut the door behind him and our eyes met. He smiled, displaying those irresistible dimples. It was a normal smile. Friendly. Like nothing had happened between us at the bar.
And really, nothing had. I needed to get that through my mind.
“Hey,” he said. “I realized when I got in my truck I was almost out of gas. Glad I noticed it before tomorrow morning.”
“An empty gas tank is never a fun surprise on a Monday morning.”
“What are you up to in there?” he asked as he wandered into the kitchen.
“Just meal prepping.”
His brow furrowed as his eyes moved across the counter. “What are you making?”
I glanced at the ingredients I’d pulled out. There was the chicken I’d already cooked. That made sense. But I’d also grabbed ketchup, a box of spaghetti, an orange, and a half gallon of milk.
How embarrassing.
“Um…” I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention. I forgot what I was looking for.”
A flash of worry crossed his features. I didn’t want him to know how much his kiss had flustered me, but it was probably too late for that.
