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For the first time in my life, I hadn’t gone home for the holiday. Instead, Chris and I stayed in, and it had been perfect. Just the two of us, no family drama. The best Christmas I can recall.
And that makes the memory hurt that much more.
“You need to leave.” I’m still staring at his feet, so I don’t notice his fingers against my cheek until it’s too late.
“Don’t cry.” His voice is gentle as he wipes the tears from my face.
Funny how two months, 2,000 miles, and falling in love with someone else still doesn’t dull the sharp ache in my chest. I guess it’s true what they say—mending a broken heart does take time. Backing away from his touch, I raise my eyes to his and slam the metaphorical hammer down on my reaction to him.
“You know what? You’re right. Crying over you is pointless.”
“I didn’t come here to fight.” A hint of irritation infuses his words. If I didn’t know him so well, I would have missed it.
The tears are already drying on my face, leaving behind tracks, but all I can think about is Cash and how he said he’d come back. But with Chris here…
I imagine the two of them squaring off in my living room, radiating testosterone and alpha vibes. That would be a disaster. I grab my phone and shoot off a quick text to him.
Me: My ex just showed up. Coming back is too risky.
Setting my cell to vibrate, I clutch it in my hand and turn back to Chris. He’s busy taking in my apartment.
“Nice place. I heard you got a job at MontBlake.” Admiration laces his tone. The company has become a household name since the merger last year, and it’s common knowledge the pay is good.
Chris wanders to the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room. As he runs his hand along the clean surface, he seems to be coming to some sort of conclusion, because he’s nodding his head.
“I could like it here.”
His intentions wind around my throat, and I’m barely able to squeak out a response. “Here?”
Pausing, he brings his gaze to mine. “In Seattle. I’ve already lined up a few job prospects.”
“Why would you do that?”
The corners of his mouth twitch, hinting at a smile. “You’re my home, Jules.”
I wring my hands. Shake my head. Try to pull in a full breath. Nothing stops the stress of the morning from eating away at my composure. It’s just too fucking much all at once.
Cash.
Chris.
No chance in hell.
“I mean it, Chris. You need to go.” I stride to the front door and swing it open. The rain from the weekend is nowhere in sight, having cleared at some point while Cash and I were caught up in each other.
God, I want that feeling back. The world hadn’t existed. The complexities of real life hadn’t mattered during those hours. There had been no right or wrong, no viewing the situation through black and white lenses.
We’d been entwined in shades of passion, lost in a red haze that set my sunlit room on fire. The clouds had cleared long enough for us to make love in the brightness of the rays coming through my bedroom window.
It was symbolic.
It was meant to be.
My phone vibrates against my palm, and while Chris is ignoring my demand to leave my apartment, I peek at the screen.
Cash: Are you okay? The conference is over. I can be there in twenty minutes.
Chris strolls into my kitchen and opens the fridge. “Have you eaten breakfast?” He tries disarming me with his charming smile, but it doesn’t work on me anymore. Not like it used to.
