Page 11 of Hooked on Love

It’s not the same. Of course it’s not. Jake isn’t Mom. He’s barely an acquaintance. He doesn’t want to be there any more than I want him there, but still, someone will be there when I unlock the door.

I take a shaky breath and pull into the parking lot. The apartment building looks the same as always. I grab the takeout bag and my purse, juggling everything as I scan my fob and head inside.

The elevator ride to the fourth floor feels longer than usual. My heart beating too fast and fluttering in a way that makes me feel ridiculous.

It’s just dinner. You’re being nice. Roommate courtesy.

I unlock the apartment door and step inside.

It’s dark except for the faint glow of the streetlights through the windows.

My heart sinks. He’s not here.

The disappointment that crashes through me is so intense it takes my breath away. Which is stupid. So stupid. He said he’d be scarce. He’s probably still at the marina, or maybe he went to his brother’s, or literally anywhere that isn’t here because why would he be here when you made it crystal clear last night was a one-night stay?

I set the takeout bag on the coffee table, then stand in the dark, feeling like an absolute idiot. The bag sits in front of me, mocking me with its two entrees and yummy spring rolls.

My vision blurs.

Oh, god. No. I am not crying over takeout.

Except I am, apparently, because suddenly there are tears on my cheeks and my throat is tight and I’m sinking onto the couch in the dark like some pathetic—

I hear it before I can finish the thought. A key in the lock.

I gasp, quickly swiping at my face as the door opens.

Jake steps inside, and even in the dim light, he looks rough. His hair’s a mess, there’s grease on his shirt, and he’s got that same exhausted set to his shoulders from this morning.

He stops when he sees me. “Peyton?”

“Hi.” My voice comes out in a squeak. I clear my throat. “Sorry, I was just—” I gesture vaguely at nothing.

He flips on the light, and I blink against the sudden brightness. His eyes narrow slightly as he looks at me. “You okay?”

“Fine.” I stand up, smoothing my blouse. “I’m fine. Long day. How was the marina?”

“Peyton.” He closes the door and moves closer. The genuine concern in his voice makes my throat tighten again. “What’s wrong?”

I try to smile but it feels wobbly. “I, um—I brought home dinner, but you weren’t here, so I…” I trail off, realizing how ridiculous I sound. “I got enough for two,” I finish lamely.

God, this is so embarrassing.

“Did you eat already?”

“No. I was just about to.”

“Good.” He moves past me toward the couch. “I’m starving. Marina food truck closed early, and I’ve been elbow-deep in engine parts since eight this morning.”

I follow him, my pulse racing. “Do you…want to eat with me?”

He sits down, leaning forward to pull containers out of the bag. “You got pad thai and spring rolls?” He peers up at me and there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I want to eat with you. Unless you’re rescinding the offer?”

“No. No, I just thought…”

“We can eat in my room if you want.”

My brow furrows. “You don’t have a room.”