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It’s my job to fight. And hard.
Because what just hit me is this: I didn’t need her to save me from Lacey. I didn’t want Lacey. I just wanted to see if Elliot would come. And she did. Because that’s her. Elliot is more than I’m worth. She’s way better than me. She shines.
And she’s the one.
She’s why I’m not interested in fucking anyone else.
She’s why I realize I’ll never be interested in fucking anyone else.
Every time I see another woman, it’s Elliot I compare her to. Elliot I think about.
Fuck me.
I’m in love with her.
And I fucked it up by not even trying to fight. I’ve had it easy for so long, I fought myself rather than fight for her.
I wouldn’t want me, either.
But I’m a selfish son of a good and devious woman.
I need to see Elliot. Now.
Heading out the door, I call, but it’s straight to voicemail.
In my taxi to her offices, I still have voicemail. So I call the damn office.
Lena answers.
“I need you to put me through to Elliot. It’s Ryder.”
“Oh,” she says. “She’s gone. Left town.”
I royally fucked up.
Chapter Thirty
Elliot
My knees go weak as he steps out of the car.
Why I’m here at Ryder’s place is beyond stupid and into the realm of masochism. I’m meant to be gone. I took the day off and had some last minute things to do in Murray Hill, which is why I got to observe that lovely scene of the spectacular and naked starlet climb all over him.
And his well-handled rejection of said naked woman.
And yet, Ryder still managed to fuck it up with me.
He wants a crutch, not someone where there might be a future.
So…masochism has me here.
But I can’t leave without seeing him.
His walk slows to a stop as he sees me. “Elliot?”
“That’s my name.”
Ryder climbs the steps to his door and lets us in. “I thought…I thought I’d fucked up.”
