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Fynn freezes and swallows hard. He blinks at me. He looks around, then narrows his eyes at me. “What did you say?”
“He didn’t tell you that?”
He shakes his head.
“He bought you a cashmere sweater the color of your eyes. That didn’t tell you something.”
“I…I was afraid to think he could want me too. The attention was nice and flattering…. I still thought it was about you. Everything is always about you.”
Is it? That stings.
“But he’s gone.”
I nod. “He said he wants us both, and I can’t do that.”
Fynn raises his eyebrows. “So it is still about you. He wants us both. You can’t do that, so I can’t have him either? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, it seemed like he didn’t want you without me.” And that sounded way shittier out loud and I’m uncertain at all, if that is what he meant. “A lot has happened since we had that conversation.” A lot has happened between him and Fynn. But he didn’t go to Fynn after he got off the elevator. So…I don’t know what to say.
“What did his text say?”
“Nothing.”
Chapter forty-seven
“You still haven’t told me how you left things,” Rowan says as he plops down in the chaise lounge next to me and we stare out at the glassy lake. Perfectly still this morning.
Summer is nearly over. We just returned from our hell weeks in Leadville, and damn if Logan might not have been exactly right about doing that.
“Things ended,” I say, taking a sip of coffee.
“Are you sure?”
I furrow my brow. “Of course, I’m sure.”
“Well, okay, but it seems things haven’t ended for you.”
What do I say to that? “I still miss them, that’s all.”
“Them?” He looks at me wide-eyed.
I sigh. “Fynn.” We haven’t discussed this in detail, have we? I take a sip of coffee and sigh again. “He’s the other man in the photos. He and I got to be very good friends.”
Friends. Friends, true ones are hard to come by, especially for me, it seems. And especially in this business.
“Friends?” Rowan smirks.
I shake my head at him. “Yes, friends.”
“You want more.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter. Life is short TJ,” he says. “I know its cliché, but, dammit, you and I both know how true that is.”
“They’ve made their choice,” I stare into my nearly empty mug. Nandy has anyway.
“Then give them another choice.”
