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“It’s a good step, but you seem confused?”
“I am. Why wouldn’t he just say he was sorry to my face? Why apologize with twelve-hundred-dollar shoes?”
She pauses. “Do you think there’s more to his gesture than an apology?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. What do you think?”
Kami shrugs. “Any chance it’s a bribe? Like, ‘Hey, I know I’ve been an asshole. Would really gorgeous shoes make you put up with more of my shit?’”
“I’m wondering that, too. We’re barely speaking, but he sends me an extravagant gift? It’s not adding up.”
“So I’m assuming this isn’t giving the closure you want?”
“Yes and no. I’m grateful for his apology, but I still have no idea how he feels about anything. Shoes, no matter how gorgeous they are, don’t tell me anything.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know any other way to tell you he cares. Unless they’re angry or horny, guys don’t communicate very effectively about their feelings. But I will say, if he’s going to this much trouble, maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“If he’s looking for a gesture I would value, telling me his true feelings would go a lot farther than giving me a pair of shoes.” I sigh. “As beautiful as these are, I can’t accept them. I’d rather earn something this amazing than receive them from someone who can’t be honest with me.”
I know I’ll probably never find shoes from a secondhand store as beautiful as these, but it’s for the best. A girl has to have her integrity after all.
“I hate that you’re saying goodbye to Manolo Blahniks.” Kami sighs. “But I understand.”
Regardless of what happens at the wedding, I’m going to stick to my guns. Even though I’ve learned how to one-night stand, that won’t stop me from wanting a genuine connection. I hope one day Jonathan can see that he should open himself to one, too.
Saturday, June 18
Jonathan
The evening I’ve both dreaded and anticipated is here: Amber’s wedding day.
I park in front of Kiera’s apartment. The beads of sweat at my temples have less to do with the June weather than seeing Kiera away from the office again. When I think about having her so close, anxiety riddles me.
The last time we spoke about anything unrelated to business, I pushed her away with sarcasm instead of telling her how I felt. What if she’s decided she’s not coming to the wedding with me after all? What if she slams the door in my face? I should have manned up and asked her about her plans before now, maybe reminded her of her responsibility to KH Industries. No, that would have been low. And cheap. What I needed to do was tell her that being with her made me feel happy, listened to, and accepted. That I didn’t want to be just her hit-it-and-quit-it teacher.
Instead, I said nothing. Now, I feel cold, guilty, and hollow.
I hoped buying her those heels would serve as an apology, that she’d see my sincerity and speak to me again. Not once did it cross my mind that she would send them back without explanation. Why did she do that? What message was she sending me?
Does it matter? She didn’t forgive me.
Worse, by the end of the night, Kiera will “graduate.” Sure, I should also officially open negotiations with Maya Thompson again, and that will be great for business. Right now, I almost don’t care. The thought of Kiera under another man makes my blood boil, but what I feel, want, or need is irrelevant. I fucked up, and she made her choice accordingly.
Drawing in a steadying breath, I knock on her front door. Seconds later, she answers. The moment she comes into view, I’m blown away by how stunning she looks.
Her hair is styled into a loose but elegant twist that reveals dangling silver earrings. Tendrils of hair softly shape her face and delicate neck. Her skin glows under the Texas sun, her natural makeup adding a subtle flush to her cheeks that accentuates her long black lashes and the berry stain on her bow-shaped lips.
She wears a simple dress in a blushing lilac shade. The spaghetti straps cling to her slender shoulders while the A-line skirt accentuates her small waist and, with a flirty ruffle, skims the tops of her knees. With French manicured nails, she grips a sleek black clutch.
I’ve never seen her look so beautiful. How am I supposed to concentrate on anything but her tonight when she looks like a fucking goddess? I have to focus on getting this deal started. It hurts like hell, knowing that, other than professionally, we’ll go our separate ways after tonight.
Does it really have to end like this?
She doesn’t want me for me, and I have to accept that. Besides, who am I to ruin her chance at a better sex life? I care about her. I want her to be happy. If that’s without me, I need to accept it.
Once more, I scan her from head to toe. Then I notice her footwear with a frown. Wait, I’ve never seen those black satin heels with pearls in the shape of a bow gracing her feet. They’re so simple yet so her. Are they the reason she rejected my gift?
“Hi,” she greets me apprehensively, her gaze everywhere except on me.
