Page 80 of Let’s Be Real

Our fights and disagreements flashed by in fragments. I hadn’t been enthusiastic enough. Didn’t say “I love you” first. No fancy shows of my devotion like her friends’ boyfriends. Times I missed events because moving off my couch was too difficult to even consider. My constant wariness, certain she was going to leave me. My fear, paranoia, jealousy.

I held on too tight, and she’d pull away, making me grasp for her. An endless cycle that went on for most of my twenties.

I didn’t miss it.

I hadn’t contemplated starting another relationship since.

Even I was surprised I wanted to try with Samantha.

“Not me, it turns out.” I spread my hands on my knees. “It’s a lot to love someone like me. As you might imagine, I’ve got a lot of hang-ups, and I brought them into our relationship. It was never easy. For either of us.”

Samantha turning me down had probably been a good thing. Even though it stung, I kept telling myself that. She was better off not being burdened by the storm cloud of my mind. Just because it cleared when I was with her didn’t mean it would remain that way.

“Hmmm.” Her eyes swept over me, assessing. “Did she give you what you needed, Nate?”

I closed my eyes, more of my past flashing in my memories. Rosalie disappearing at parties she’d dragged me to. Her telling me she loved me within two weeks of meeting and falling apart when I wasn’t there yet. Standing me up to hang out with her friends. Flirting right in front of me over and over and over. Deciding to move to London for work and expecting me to drop everything and follow her without a single conversation.

“No, she didn’t. I don’t think I ever felt secure.” I leveled my mother with a steady gaze. “I have a fear of abandonment, and she fed it until it became a monster too big for either of us to control.”

Louise’s gaze was just as steady on me. “Then you need to find someone who shuts that monster up and sends it back to the dark corner where it belongs. You, Nate Wells, are worth the effort. Please remember that.”

“I’ll give it a try,” I said, not sure I meant it.

Later, when I was lying in my bed, fatigue settling over me, I picked up the weighted sleep mask Samantha had bought for me. I didn’t really need it—the room was pitch black from the curtains she’d hung over the windows—but I placed it over my eyes anyway.

Lavender invaded my nostrils, and the luxurious sheets and mattress cradled my body.

Samantha had done this for me. She’d gone out of her way to make my bedroom comfortable—optimized—so I would finally sleep.

Lying here, surrounded by all she’d done for no reason other than she cared about me, I understood why her rejection had knocked me sideways. My ego wasn’t just bruised. It was the effort. She had gone above and beyond for me, and when it came down to it, she didn’t want anything real with me.

“Let’s be real,” I whispered, laughing at myself.

I should have kept my damn mouth shut.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Samantha

What a terrible, no-good week. I was in the worst mood of my life, and anyone who got in my way was going to feel the brunt of it.

It was all Nate’s fault.

If he’d kept his damn mouth shut, I could have still been having the best sex of my life. But nooo…he had to go and ask for something real. As if his dick in my ass hadn’t been real enough.

I shifted in my seat, getting annoyed all over again that I couldn’t feel the ghost of him inside me anymore.

I was tired. Instead of putting on my comfy pajamas and climbing into my bed after a long night spent putting out fires at work, I was in my suit, searching for a parking spot at two in the morning.

This was Nate’s fault too.

He’d stolen all my good pajamas. Lacy little things I had no intention of wearing anytime soon were all I had left. I wanted my baggy T-shirts and boxers back, and I was going to get them tonight.

Sure, maybe I’d been the one who’d left them at his place. And yes, it was possible he’d texted I could come get them anytime or he’d leave them at Adrian’s if that was better for me. So, also yes, maybe he wasn’t actually holding them hostage. And no, it hadn’t extinguished the fire fueling me on my way up the elevator. If anything, his consideration pissed me off more.

Then I got further pissed when it took him no time to open his door after I knocked—I scowled, folding my arms over my chest.

“You should be sleeping.”