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“Sorry, Bill.”
He smiled. “Used to it by now, buddy.”
I nodded, then sighed as I went to get my own bin.
Two hours later, freshly showered and so uncomfortable I wanted to tear my skin off, I pulled into Zoe fucking Valentine’s driveway.
I stared at the house for ten long minutes before I could get out of the car.
Her house looked like something I’d find outside London. The iron fence, the Tudor styling, the well-tended plants and flowers she’d cultivated to make it look sweet and friendly.
All in all, it was like its owner.
Except when she was facing me, of course.
I’d been uniquely talented in bringing out Zoe’s hidden feisty side. Amie had constantly told me how strange it was that Zoe was nice to everyone. Except me.
I shoved open my door with a grimace, because ever since the moment I’d met her and couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut about the utter arse she was marrying, she hadn’t been sweet and friendly with me.
There was something about her. I’d never done a good job of defining it in my head. Likely because she defied any sort of label my feeble brain was able to give her.
I wanted to be close to her. Wanted to see her smile.
And I wanted to push her as far away from me as humanly possible, because proximity to Zoe Valentine was dangerous.
It had felt like a mockery, the ring on her finger that first night, because for the first time in my life, I’d met a woman who knocked the breath from my lungs when she smiled.
I hated that she was taken. I hated that she made me feel that way. And I hated even more that she was marrying some idiot who needed to be punched about as badly as anyone I’d ever met.
Naturally, that meant I was a dick to her every single time I saw her. Just to make sure the lines between us were clear.
And now?
Now I was strolling up to her door before it was polite to drop by someone’s house, and there was every fucking chance she’d slap me across the face before accepting an apology.
I didn’t even know what my plan was. Didn’t know what I was going to say. But somehow I knew that if I didn’t say something, Chris and his big smile and his annoying ghost ass would keep showing up in my dreams.
He’d haunt me, the fucker, and be bloody cheerful about it, if I had to guess.
I let out a slow breath and walked up to the front door.
Before I even knocked, I heard Mira crying.
Loudly.
I pinched my eyes shut and started to turn around.
“Good morning.”
At the dry tone, I looked over my shoulder.
The neighbor with the scary eyebrows was walking her tiny little dog. And while he took a shit on the grass, she watched me with one of those brows quirked up and a poo bag waiting in her hand.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
“What business is it of yours?”
She barked out an amused laugh. “Despite all evidence as to why I shouldn’t, I like you, Liam.”
