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“Make me understand, Gabriella.”
“You called me by my first name?” I lift my gaze, staring directly into his eyes. “I don’t want to be just a senator’s wife. I don’t want that life for me. Nicholas is no different than my father.”
“Then explain to me why a man, no different, has allowed you to walk away?”
“I don’t know…” I murmur, twisting the napkin to calm my anxious nerves. “I thought I just needed time to figure things out… and now… I’m all confused.”
The second I say it, I regret it instantly.
Oliver has to know it’s about him.
He must know he circles my thoughts almost every minute of the day, tearing my conscience apart.
Desperate to change the topic, I muster up a smile as I observe his plate. “How’s your breakfast?”
“It’s great, thanks…” He pauses, then puts his fork down, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. “This confusion?—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. At least, just not now.”
He doesn’t force another word, respecting my decision to no longer entertain this topic. We eat the remainder of our food in silence until Oliver suggests we leave so he can attend his appointment across town. I don’t ask any further details while we walk back to the house silently.
“Oliver?” I call, waiting for him to turn around. “Just give me time, okay? I need to process all this.”
His soft lips stretch into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They’re lit with sadness, and no doubt pity, because he can’t grasp the way I live my life and the feeling of entrapment.
For a few moments, I stare at him, almost sure his expression mirrors mine. I want to ask him to stay, come inside, and sit with me. But I know that would be asking for something only to satisfy my needs. Play the selfish card because he has somewhere important to be, and I want him to put me first.
I want anyone to put me first.
Including myself.
Oliver disappears around the corner without a single word, and once again, I’m alone.
I close the door behind me, resting against it while I try to come to terms with what just happened. Inside my head, I can’t comprehend my feelings toward Oliver. Sexual attraction is one thing, but the way he makes me feel in his presence—alive and worthy of this life—I just can’t, no matter how much I try to get my head around those thoughts.
My heart, on the other hand, knows what the hell is happening, waving red flags at me to walk away now before it gets too messy.
I wrack my brain trying to remember when I last felt this way. It wasn’t with Pierce Worthington in my senior year of high school when I lost my virginity to him on prom night at The Ritz-Carlton, nor was it with William Chesterfield in college during our six-month relationship.
And it isn’t with Nicholas King.
It’s now the bad boy neighbor who has turned out not so… bad.
After a long shower, desperate to rid my thoughts and gain some clarity on the situation, I settle myself in the kitchen with a strong coffee and my new book. I opt for reading non-fiction—a simple way to steer my brain toward something educational instead of the smut as Lana refers to it. The last thing I need are characters having sex when I’m not.
There’s a gentle knock on my door, breaking my concentration. Lana strolls in, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a ripped tee, carrying a basket of muffins.
“Good morning, how are we today?”
“Good,” I answer, eyeing her cautiously. “What’s with the muffins?”
“I just thought they would be nice.”
“Thank you.”
“All right…” She states, placing them on the table and sliding into a chair. “I need a huge favor.”
Of course, never take muffins from a neighbor without a string attached.
