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I blink a few times as I realize she’s right. I just took nearly a thirty-minute unplanned break on one of our busy days.
I draw in another shaky breath then walk out of the bathroom with her, my head held high. I focus on my tasks so I don’t fall apart at work. I bake my famous cookies ahead of our rush tomorrow, but all I can think about as I portion out the dough onto the cookie sheets is how Grayson took a cookie from me that he never ate.
All I can think about is the fact that he called me Cookie.
All I can think about is him—not the man I broke up with a week ago today.
All I can think about is finishing my task list for the day so I can go home and cry myself to sleep.
But when I get home, I spot a car out front.
I very nearly turn the car around to check into a hotel somewhere just so I don’t have to face whoever drove that car here.
Apparently Colin is firmly planted in the trying to make this work phase crossed with the delusional phase, and that’s one combinational phase I’m just not prepared to handle tonight.
I walk in, and it feels like total déjà vu of last weekend. Kelly is making big eyes at me in the kitchen, and Colin stands a few yards away in the family room just waiting for me to get home.
I’m glad he didn’t come to the bakery. At least I have the kitchen there as my safe space.
“Colin, I’m not in the mood tonight,” I say quietly, giving exactly zero fucks as to putting on any sort of pretense whatsoever.
“I traveled halfway across the country to see you. The least you can do is let me take you to dinner,” he complains.
I blow out a heavy breath. “I had a rough day at work, and I just want to slip into a bubble bath, eat some pizza, and call it an early night. I don’t have the energy to feed your delusions.”
His brows dip together. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I pucker my lips at him. “If you got a hotel, you should go to it. You know weekends are the busiest time for the bakery.”
Kelly slips quietly out of the room as we argue, and I really could’ve used her for moral support. And I will. She’ll be there when I get him to leave, and I can tell her all about Grayson coming by and shattering my heart when breaking up with the man standing in front of me didn’t so much as break a sliver off.
He clears his throat. “But I work all week. When are we ever supposed to see each other to make this work?”
“That’s sort of the point of what I’m saying,” I say dryly. I turn to walk out of the room to my bedroom, but before I stop, I turn back toward him. “Thank you for coming. Thank you for trying to work on this. I just don’t have it in me tonight.”
With those words, I head down the hall to my bedroom.
Chapter 17: Grayson Nash
A Bed of Lies
“Hit,” I say, looking down at the blackjack table.
I bust with a ten on my fourteen, and the dealer pulls in my chips. I set another stack on the little circle where players place their bets as I take a sip of my gin.
I wince a little at the sharp taste, but another glass this full and I won’t be tasting much of anything. I won’t be feeling much of anything, and that’s sort of exactly what I’m going for right now.
Because this hurts. It hurts far more than it should given that I shared exactly one night with the girl.
I blow out a breath as the dealer tosses me another four, praying for a seven to go along with it. Praying my luck will somehow change from the absolute shit I’ve been dealt all night.
Nothing changes. I get a nine. What the fuck am I supposed to do with a fucking thirteen?
I hit.
I get a ten.
I bust.
