Page 66 of Heart Breaker

"It doesn’t… and that's a problem."

Even as I say it, I'm not sure whether I'm trying to convince him or myself because if this keeps growing into something that feels like it could be real, then there's so much more at stake than one reckless night. There’s my heart, and his.

His eyes hold mine, and for once, that calm, measured expression he wears so easily isn’t there. He looks torn. Almost vulnerable. "Lottie, what happened between us wasn't a mistake."

My pulse stumbles. "I didn't say it was."

"Good, because I won't pretend that I regret it."

The confession steals the air from my lungs. It’s exactly what I was afraid of—that he’d look me in the eye and make it impossible to keep pretending that none of this matters. Part of me wants him to take it back. A much larger part wants him to keep going.

"Wes, it complicated things."

“But it was worth it." His gaze lingers on me, long enough to make my heart do something embarrassing. "It was the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

And just like that, every sensible argument I’ve spent the past few days formulating evaporates. That's the problem with Wes. The man can spend twenty minutes saying almost nothing, then string together a single sentence that lands beneath my skin and makes itself at home.

My chest aches. It’s the kind of ache that comes from wanting something you know you shouldn't. The kind that whispers maybe when every ounce of common sense is screaming don't.

When I look at Wes, I see the man who drives me crazy. The man who disappears into himself when things get hard. The man who hides out behind a wall I can’t figure out how to climb. But I also see the man who sends me messages about his day because he knows that’s important to me. The man who looks for me the second he walks through the front door.

I clear my throat and reach for the door handle. “Come on,” I tell him, needing to get to safer ground. “My mom is going to start planning our vow renewal if we leave her waiting much longer.”

Wes groans and follows me into whatever chaos is waiting for us in my parents’ house.

So much for safer ground.

TWENTY-FIVE

Wes

“Finally!”

Lottie’s mom, Claire, is outside before we’ve even made it to the front door, wrapping a cream-colored sweater around her shoulders as she rushes out to greet us. She’s petite, maybe a couple of inches taller than Lottie, with shoulder-length dark brown hair streaked lightly with silver. She has warm brown eyes and the kind of easy smile that makes people feel welcome.

The second she spots Lottie, her entire face lights up. Suddenly, a flash of my own mom standing in front of the doorway after school flickers through my mind. It’s one of the only clear memories I have of her. The way she smiled as soon as she saw me, like she’d been waiting all day.

“See? I told you she was watching for us,” Lottie whispers beside me.

When Claire reaches us, she immediately pulls her daughter in a massive hug. Lottie laughs, her arms wrapping around her mom, and for some reason I can’t look away. It’s clear where Lottie gets her warmth and kindness from—the way she throws herself wholeheartedly at the people she loves. Claire’s eyes squeeze shut as she smiles into her daughter’s hair. Some people never have to wonder if they’re loved, and Lottie is one of them.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Claire says. “I was starting to think you’d changed your minds.”

When she finally lets go of Lottie, she turns her attention to me and the smile she gives me is just as bright. Before I can react, she’s pulling me into her arms for a hug as well.

“Welcome,” she says simply, embracing me like I’m someone worthy of marrying her daughter. Her hand cups the side of my cheek. “We’re so happy you’re here.”

Wham, the thing in my chest tightens again. Lottie slips her fingers through mine and gently squeezes. I glance down at our joined hands for a second before looking back up. Her mother is still smiling, still looking at her daughter with sparkles in her eyes.

How the hell are we supposed to lie to someone who loves Lottie this much?

Another woman has appeared in the doorway and is staring at us with a wide smile that reminds me of Lottie. She has to be Harper.

"Oh, he's tall," she says with a smirk.

Beside me, Lottie groans, but there’s a hint of laughter in it.

"What? He is. He’s muscular, too."