“Shit…” I mutter, stepping back as the door flings open, revealing his shirtless frame.
“Bae?” he rasps, staring at me with wide eyes.
“H…hi,” I stutter back.
I pull my purse closer to my side and try to smile, but there are no memories between us that are good enough to make it happen.
“You look different,” he whispers.
“So do you.”
His bulky body looks smaller, or maybe I’ve just become used to Rich’s massive physique.
He scrapes his fingers down his five o’clock shadow, then runs his hand over his frizzy braid-up.
“Do…do you mind if I come in?” I ask.
“Do I mind? I’ve been waiting for you all week.”
Back when I loved him, a confession like that would’ve brought me to my knees, but this time it just makes my stomach turn.
He reaches out, and I flinch as his soft finger touches my cheek. “You eat? I’m gonna order that brioche French toast you like.”
“I…I don’t have much of an appetite, actually.”
“You never do when we fight. I always have to make you eat after we make up. Come in. We’ll figure breakfast out.”
He opens the door wider but stays in the frame, forcing me to squeeze past him and the overpowering stench of tequila and Baccarat Rouge.
The expansive suite has the same floor plan as the other ones we stayed in. The floor to ceiling windows display the city’s skyline like a perfect backdrop. I used to press my face against them, searching for Bayou Crest through the tall buildings and deep green trees.
The door clicks shut behind me.
“I knew you would come. I told Blake that yesterday.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to utter more of what Blake might have told him after our disastrous Sunday dinner.
“My number one girl always makes shit right between us.”
I quietly exhale.
“You stayed up the whole night waiting for me to come back home once after one of our dumbass fights. You remember that?”
“Kind of hard to sleep in the condition I was in,” I mutter. “Staying up was the only thing Icoulddo.”
I gulp and squeeze my purse’s handles.
“Awe, Lovie. I don’t wanna argue about that stuff. It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there.”
“Stuff?”
He eases beside me, sighing and grabbing my arm. “It’s been a month since I’ve seen you. I don’t wanna do this…this bickering shit you like to do.”
“I’m not trying to bicker. I’m just not going to let you rewrite history.”
“It’s not rewriting history. You have a habit of making things seem worse than they were.”
I cut my eyes at him. “AJ.”
