But my real low point arrives when she marches over to my desk and sets one down on the corner, a bright, cheerful arrangement of sunflowers and dahlias. “Here you go. Why don’t you take one?”
Dear God, she’s pawning her unwanted flowers off on me.
I force a smile, biting the inside of my cheek hard to keep any nasty barbs from slipping out, because she doesn’t deserve them. None of this is her fault. My love life—or lack thereof—isn’t on her. None of it is. Even if sheissleeping with the man I love.
But Romy, being Romy, doesn’t seem to notice the tension tightening my shoulders. She perches on the edge of my desk and idly plays with the petals of her donated bouquet. “So, are you doing anything for Valentine’s Day?”
A sharp laugh breaks out of me. “Yeah. Me, a pint of ice cream, and my dog. It’s going to be a banner night.”
She wrinkles her nose. “That’s unacceptable. I love Gus, we all do, but you need a better date than that.”
No shit, Sherlock. But I only want one man, and because the universe is a sadistic bitch, I’m not allowed to have him.
“We’re all going out,” she continues. “Big group. You should come with us.”
I hesitate, my mind running through worst-case scenarios like a horror reel. I haven’t the slightest clue what this group outing will consist of. Will it be a bunch of twenty-five-year-old beauties discussing their non-existent wrinkles and their need for Botox? Some Hollywood elite flapping their money under my nose when I can barely afford a slice of pizza? Or the guys from the crew, where I get a front-row seat to watch her flirt with Eddie—and, just for fun, Eddie flirt right back with her?
Hard pass.
Any and all of those options sound far more painful than spending the night basking in my loneliness with my dog by my side and a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough on my lap.
“I appreciate it, I really do,” I say, keeping my tone light even as I fight every word. “But I’m not much fun to be aroundanymore.”
“Oh, come on. You could be.”
No, I really couldn’t.
But I don’t say that part out loud, because that opens the door to questions I have no intention of answering. Instead, I shrug and go with my standard fallback. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
Romy knows it’s a lie, but she lets it go. Leaning in, she presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “Cheer up. Oh, and just so you know, Nolan’s coming later. Figured he’d surprise you.”
Of course he is.
She bounces off toward the front of the house, and I wait until she’s gone before dropping my forehead onto the desk with a soft thud.
“Fantastic,” I mutter. “Just what I need today.”
Nolan arrives a couple of hours later, sweeping in with a caravan of people in tow. I’ve never met anyone who travels with so many assistants. At this point, I’m half convinced he has people on payroll just to tie his shoes for him. Not that the man isn’t capable of doing it himself, but when you have that kind of money, people get creative with how they use it.
He steps inside, taking in the space before his gaze cuts to me, dragging slowly over my khakis and old sweatshirt.
“Ah,” he says, a hint of teasing in his tone. “Dressing for the job site now, I see.”
Great. Here we go.
I brush my hands against my pants, noting the bright turquoise paint smudge near my knee. “I would have dressed up, but I wasn’t expecting you today.”
He waves a hand at me, dismissing the concern entirely. “I don’t care what you look like.” He gestures loosely around the room. “I care what the house looks like. Besides, life’s too short for uncomfortable attire.”
Right. Tell that to your assistant teetering around in stilettos and a micro mini. InFebruary.
It’s then he spies Gus, curled up by my desk. Their eyes meet, and Gus’s tail gives a slow, hopeful thump against the wood.
Shit.I definitely wouldn’t have brought him today if I’d known Nolan was coming.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been working longer hours, and he’s older, and I didn’t want to leave him alone—” The words trip over each other in their rush to escape my mouth.
Nolan holds up a hand, cutting me off before I can dig myself any deeper. Then, without another word, he crosses the room and crouches down in front of Gus. “Well, aren’t you a handsome guy,” he murmurs, scratching behind his ears.
