Page 81 of Something Like That

As soon as the words left his mouth, his soul scrambled to take them back. Too late. They hovered in the space between them like a toxic fog.

“What?”

He swallowed, anxiety and unease at the big old fucking can of worms he’d not only opened, but flung in her face, stealing his voice. Where the fuck was this inability to speak thirty seconds ago?

As the implications of what he’d suggested sank in, she visibly shut down. Her features blanked. She pulled her shoulders back. “Thank you.” The frosty edge of the words was sharp, and they sliced into him, deep. “But I don’t need you to buy me a building. I’ve got this under control.”

He knew he should back down. She knew what she did, and didn’t want. But she was just being reactive and stubborn. “Hear me out. I think—”

She held her hand up, palm out. “I said no.”

Her dismissive tone put him on the defensive. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not being stubborn.” The tilt of her chin said otherwise, but pointing it out would only piss her off even more. “I already told you I have everything under control.”

“And that’s why you’re looking at want ads?”

She flinched. A weird, piercing ache slid through his chest. He needed to stop pushing. He didn’t want to fight with her.

“What I’m doing is none of your business.”

Tell her she’s right. “I just want to help you.” Yeah, that was not backing down.

“I don’t need your help.” She picked up the tablet and started scrolling.

An unexpected anger welled inside him at her dismissal. “Don’t do that, Alex. Don’t treat me like I’m the enemy.”

“You’re not my enemy,” she said, turning back to him. Her grey eyes were as cold as center ice. “But you don’t get to ride in on your white horse and save the damsel. She’s perfectly capable of saving herself.” She glanced into the living room and then back at him. “And keep your voice down.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Of course, it is. Coming in and tossing your money around like it’s nothing. Offering to spend thousands and thousands of dollars. Friends don’t buy buildings for each other.”

The words shouldn’t hurt, and yet they sliced through him like barbed wire, cutting and slashing everything in their path. Bleeding him dry from the inside out. “Is that how you see me? As just a friend?” He was proud at how well he managed to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Because I thought we were a hell of a lot more than that.”

She swallowed and looked away. “Why? Because we had mind-blowing sex?” She looked back at him. Her eyes were sad. “Come on, Nick. You and I both know this was temporary. You’re about to go back to New England, and I’m staying here.”

“Alex…” His mind tumbled over itself trying to come up with the right words, the perfect words. To tell her how he really felt. How he wanted this to be something more.

“It was never anything serious, Nick.” Her voice was quiet, but there was no hesitation, no doubt. “And I’m sorry if I led you to believe otherwise.”

She might as well have picked up a kitchen knife and jabbed it into his gut. It probably would have hurt less. But he refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing just how badly she’d wounded him.

He stuffed his hands into his jean’s pockets. “No, of course not,” he said, measuring the words carefully, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. “I didn’t mean—”

“Hey, Mom.” Em bounced into the room, her blonde ponytail swinging. “Did you find out what kind of pizza Nick likes? We’re starving.” She patted her stomach as if to emphasize her point.

“Hey, sweetie.” Alex turned toward her daughter. The smile on her face was so brittle, he could hear the edges crackling from across the room. “Was just about to order. Nick?”

“Sorry, Sniper.” He looked at Em. “I just remembered that I have an important meeting tonight, so I can’t stay.”

Em’s face fell. The pain in his chest burrowed deeper, the barbs burying themselves in the soft, tender flesh. “Oh, okay,” she said and looked at the floor. “Well, thanks for coming.”

He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. Didn’t know how to make it better. How to make any of this better.

His phone rang. Normally, he’d ignore it, but the ringtone was Nate’s. His brother never called him.

“Give me a sec.” He pulled the phone out of his pocket. Nate’s name and number flashed across the screen. “I’ve got to take this.” He turned around so he was facing the dining room window and pressed the answer button. “Hey, Nate. Sorry but I can’t talk right now.”