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Time to get this over with.
“So, you didn’t have much to work with,” Sam says as I walk into the kitchen, his back facing me as he stands over the stove. He transfers two sunny-side-up eggs from the pan to a plate before turning to face me. “But I found eggs.”
Hot cup of coffee in his hand, he saunters over and hands it to me as he leans against the island and cuts one egg in half with a fork before scooping it up and holding it in front of my mouth.
What the hell is he doing?
Never, in the months we’ve been hooking up, have we ever been so… domesticated with each other and I’m once again baffled by the change in him that seems to have occurred overnight as I open my mouth and accept the food. He watches me chew with an expectant expression on his face.
“Good?” he asks and I nod, lifting the steaming cup of coffee to my lips. I take a sip before realizing that he didn’t add any creamer to it and I try not to grimace as I grip it in both hands. “Oh, you were out of creamer but there's this great little coffee shop nearby that you’ll love if you want to stop and grab something there.”
Why does he think he’ll be versed in what I love? Sam and I don’t spend time together unless it’s to fuck and he can’t even do that right, so he has no clue what I’d want or like. I shake my head, setting the coffee down as I gather up my laptop and slip it in its bag.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” he asks, an edge to his voice that wasn’t there a second ago.
“Does it matter?”
He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah, it sure as hell does.”
Sighing, I face him and lean my hip against the counter as I cross my arms over my chest. “Sam, after what happened this morning, I think it’s best if we end this.”
“I fucking knew you would do this,” he hisses, slamming the plate of eggs down on the counter and I’m surprised that it doesn’t shatter. Damn, that thing is sturdy. I’m kind of impressed, actually. I’ll have to figure out who sells them and pick up more.
Sam grabs the coffee off of the counter and takes a sip, drawing my attention back to him. “Why can’t you let me in, baby? What are you so scared of?”
There’s that word again. I square my shoulders and lift my chin in defiance as I stare him down. “I’m not scared and I’m sure as hell not your damn baby.”
“But you could be if you’d just give this thing a shot. You don’t need to be scared.”
“Did you forget about the rules? This was never going to be more than sex and I already told you, I’m not scared.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re so full of shit, Carly. You’re terrified of something. I just can’t figure out what it is. I never forgot your damn rules but I’m saying this could be so much more. We’re great together and all I’m asking is for you to give us a chance.”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head and he looks away for a moment before stepping toward me and cradling my cheek as he gives me an imploring look. He’s dead wrong if he thinks it will work on me.
“Please, Car. Just grab dinner with me tonight and we can talk. We can take this as slow as you want. Just give me a shot.”
His hopeful expression fills me with guilt but there’s no way in hell this thing can go on, no matter what he says. It’s annoying because now I will have to find someone new. Though, even the thought of getting back out there has me considering celibacy for the first time since college.
I take a step back and his hand falls between us. “You’re not hearing me. This is over. I’m sorry if that hurts you but I made myself perfectly clear when we met. This was only ever sex for me and now it’s done.”
He lets out a sardonic laugh and nods, thrusting his full cup of coffee at my chest. I catch it but half of the contents spill down the front of my dress as my gaze snaps up to his in shock.
“Have a nice fucking life, Carly.”
Sam takes off, knocking me in the shoulder as he lumbers past me, and stalks toward the door. The door to the apartment slams shut as he leaves and I jump as I turn to look at it before glancing down at my ruined dress. Would it be possible to crawl back into bed and pretend this day never happened?
* * * *
This entire day is going to shit.
After changing into a new outfit - a sleek black dress and my favorite red leather jacket to make me feel like a badass after my terrible morning - I barely made it to work when Ali, my best friend, got a call from her boyfriend that someone had broken into her house. It’s not even noon yet and I’m counting the minutes until I can go home, lock the front door, crawl under the covers, and lose myself in a bottle of wine.
I glance across the car at Alison, who doesn’t even notice my gaze as she stares at the road in front of us. She hasn’t said a word since she hung up the phone with her boyfriend, Storm. Not that I blame her. I’m sure her mind is a million miles away right now. I mean, what do you even say to someone after such an invasion of privacy? As I focus back on the road, I rack my brain for anything that could improve her mood or even take her mind off the situation but come up empty. It kills me.
Alison and I met six years ago when we both worked at The Baton Rouge Times. In hindsight, it wasn’t a great job, but we were both fresh out of college and excited to be starting our journey in journalism. We bonded right away over our love of the written word and coffee. When she introduced me to her roommate, Isabelle Hutton, we became a tight knit little group. I swear, sometimes it's like I’ve known them my entire life and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for either of them.
