I push at his shoulder. “Don’t be an ass. Don’t use that to push me away right now.”
“I’m not using it—it’s who I am. You should know that by now. You’ve known me for over a decade. What you see is what you get.”
“That’s a lie.” I step closer to him, my breath misting through the air between us. “That’s a lie, and you goddamn know it. You’re not the irritable prick you like to make yourself out to be, the one you showcase for the world. You’re a beautiful soul with a loving heart and a caring mind. This guy who’s standing in front of me, he’s not the Reid I know. He’s just a placeholder for the man I love.”
His eyes widen right before he shakes his head and casts his eyes down again. “You don’t love me, Eve.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel.” I step closer, giving him no choice but to meet my eyes. “If I say I love you, then I freaking love you, and you need to accept that.”
He runs his tongue along his lips. “I think you need to accept that, yeah, we know how to fuck, and that’s been good, but in the long run we’re not compatible.” I reel back from the verbal slap to the face he just delivered.
We know how to fuck? Yes, the physical chemistry has been a huge plus when it comes to Reid, but it’s not why I chose him, why I still choose him, why I love this man standing in front of me, the one purposefully trying to break my heart.
I love Reid because he challenges me, because he’s a roller coaster. He gives me highs and lows, he keeps me guessing, he shows me that life isn’t about walking around wearing rose-colored glasses. There’s defeat, there’s sorrow, and there are moments of utter clarity that mold you.
And even though I don’t truly want to admit this, and I would probably never say this to Reid, I sense his need, like he needs my spirit, my thoughts, my mind. I took care of my parents, and even though it was devastating to watch them slowly fade away, it filled a hole in my heart I never knew I had: the urge to take care of someone. Reid considers himself a burden on me, but he isn’t—in fact, he fills a part of my soul that’s been gaping ever since I lost my parents.
“How could you say we’re not compatible? Don’t you see how well we fit together?”
Growling, he rakes both his hands through his hair. “This is over, and the sooner you understand that, the better.”
Like a knife to the chest, his words stab me, cutting me to my very core. “You don’t mean this. What about last night; what about our plans? What about me being the girl for you? Where did all that go?”
He casually shrugs. “Sometimes you can’t have it all.”
He takes a step back, and my heart lurches. “Reid, don’t do this. Talk to me.”
“Nothing to talk about, Eve. It’s over.”
“Just like that? You’re just calling it?”
He reaches for the door handle of his truck. “Someone has to be smart about this.”
“You think you’re being smart? Okay, genius, tell me how you expect us to work together with this heartbreak hanging between us?”
He glances at me, his blue eyes flashing with confidence, though not for him . . . but for me. “You’re a professional, Eve. I know you’ll be able to handle it.”
With that, he gets in his truck, and it roars to life. Without a backward glance, he takes off, leaving me and my bruised, battered heart in the parking lot of my apartment building.
You’re a professional, Eve.
That’s what I keep telling myself over and over again as I stand next to Reid, the scent of his cologne hitting me in the gut, the warmth of his arm so close to mine that if I step an inch to the left, our skin will be touching.
And my eyes can’t help but wander over his body as he speaks to Giselle, directing her and the construction manager, Dale, with precise detail.
When his arm lifts to point, I take in the definition of his forearm, the indent on the inside of his biceps, the shapeliness of his shoulder and how it used to feel wrapped warmly around me, cocooning me into his body.
When he speaks, I close my eyes as I listen to the deep baritone of his voice floating around me like a warm hug, remembering all the times he would gently whisper into my ear when he was deep inside of me.
And when he stands there, listening intently to everyone present at the meeting, I can’t help but stare at the dark scruff that lines his jaw—the same scruff that left delicious beard burns up and down my legs—or the way his backward hat seems to intensify his eyes somehow, lending them the same fire that would smolder in them whenever I walked into a room.
It’s been one week, but every time I look at him, my heart feels like it’s being ripped out all over again.
That night . . . I don’t think I’ve ever cried as hard as I did after he left. I fled to my apartment, locked myself in my room, and buried my head in my pillow. The grief, the anger, the confusion—all of them poured out of me at once. The next day when Eric took in my appearance and asked if I was okay, I just nodded and told him the spring allergies were getting me. I don’t think he believed it, but he didn’t ask any other questions.
Every night after that, I’ve done the same thing: I’ve gone straight from work to the apartment, barricading myself in my room and insisting to Eric that I need privacy to study—though I have yet to open a textbook since Reid broke things off.
And Reid thinks this is for the better? Maybe for him. In a cruel twist of fate, he actually looks hotter, seems more confident, and exudes nothing but excitement as he checks over every last detail of the restaurant.
Then there’s me, the walking dead. I’m pretty sure I have mascara on only one eye today, I can’t remember the last time I brushed my hair, and I know for damn sure that my socks don’t match. This breakup most definitely hasn’t made my life any easier.
And the loss is starting to eat away at me. At my confidence, at my energy, at my ability to focus—hence why I can’t take my eyes off his pecs right now.
“What do you think, Eve?” Eric asks, snapping me to attention.
“Um, yeah, great,” I answer, not quite sure what the hell we’re talking about.
“Then we all agree,” Reid says. “I look forward to seeing how it all turns out.” He glances at his watch. “Have a shift at the Landing. Got to go. I’ll catch you two later.” He gives us a quick wave, and just to be an ass, I flutter my fingers at him. I’m tempted to toss him a middle finger as well but hold back.
Giselle and Dale take off toward the kitchen, continuing the conversation and leaving me alone with Eric, who stares at me, his arms crossed over his chest.
“So that went well,” I say, studying the air above his right shoulder.
“Do you even know what we talked about?”
“Yeah . . . things.”
“Eve—”
“You know, as much as I want to explore that disappointed look on your face, I’d rather not right now. I’m going to go hit up the library and do some studying. See you tonight. You’re cooking.” As if I need to say that. He’s been cooking every night, testing out new recipes and dishes for the restaurant. He wants to tell Reid that my mac and cheese with Doritos should be featured on the menu, but Lord knows how that will go.
Oh, Eve’s recipe, gross, ew, I want nothing to do with her—said in a snarky, ugly voice.
That’s how Reid sounds in my head right now, despite the fact that I kept wanting to lick his neck today. Straight up lick the man’s neck, claim him as mine, let everyone in Port Snow know that even though we’re on a break / broken up, he’s still mine. I’ve spent a week in a semidazed state, trying so hard to keep it together, but now I feel myself teetering on the edge of control.
Leaving Knight and Port, I make a left instead of a right, hoping Eric doesn’t catch me. It’s a good walk, one that should help me clear my mind, but instead of taking in the tall ponderosa pines on either side of the street and marveling at their beauty, I’m stewing, my ball of anger growing bigger and bigger with each step. Striding away from town, I’
m grateful for the distance from all the prying eyes and running mouths.
I should breathe in the fresh sea air, but instead I’m huffing like a bull, stomping my feet into the ground, ready to charge.
And instead of waving happily at all the locals, greeting them with a friendly hello and accompanying wave, I’m giving them an easy view of the horns growing out of the top of my head and the fire blazing in my eyes.
By the time I reach my destination, I toss the door open and call out, “I hope you have pants on because I’m coming in.”
Harper is standing at the bottom of Snow Vale Manor’s grand staircase, clipboard in hand, paper half-lifted, her eyes wide as she takes me in.
“Good God, woman, who enters a building like that?”
“Do you have booze?”
She points toward the den, where her office is. “Scotch in the desk drawer.”
“Good.” I huff my way across the newly refurbished floors, too angry to really appreciate the beauty of the manor, which Rogan painstakingly restored as a testament to his love for Harper.
See, isn’t that romantic? Restoring an old manor in the name of love? That’s what men should be doing: romantic gestures. Not offering up high fives like you’re bro-ing out in a locker room.
No woman wants a goddamn high five!
I rip the desk drawer open, the force shaking the pen cup balanced on top, and spot the scotch. In one swoop, I bring the bottle up, uncap it, and take a big swig.
“Whoa, what happened to you?” a very familiar voice says from the armchair behind me.
Spinning on my heel, I point my finger at a man who has the same eyes as the dipshit I happen to be in love with.
“I hate you.”
“What?” Rogan’s eyes narrow as he sets down the tablet he was working on. “What the hell did I do?”
“You’re related to Reid, correct?”
“Last time I checked, unfortunately I am.”
“Then I hate you. I hate everyone connected to him.”
“Uh, does that include me?” Harper asks as she steps inside and sits down in her desk chair, looking over what seems to be a checklist. Ever since Rogan opened the manor to the public, they’ve been booking out months in advance for events, and Harper is in charge of all of them. She loves her job, loves her man, loves her life.
How freaking perfect.
“Yes, because you’re happy—I can see it in your eyes even if you’re trying to hide it. Don’t try to trick me. I can smell happiness, and it’s oozing out of your every pore.”
Harper sets her clipboard to the side. “You seem a little hysterical, maybe on the verge of a mental breakdown. How about you take a seat and we talk this over.”
“Oh no, I’m not sitting down.” I pace the room, bringing the bottle up to my lips for another swig—guess who’s calling in sick to the Inn tonight? This girl.
Rogan cuts in. “I’m going to take one guess that this has to do with my idiotic brother?”
“Yes, mm-hmm, that’s correct. Sir Reid ‘the Moron’ Knightly. He’s the cause of this lunacy.”
“What did he do this time?” Rogan asks, sounding exasperated.
“Oh, you know, just broke up with me. That’s all.”
“He what?” Harper asks as Rogan mumbles something unintelligible to himself and drags both of his hands down his face. “He broke up with you?”
“Yup.” I slump against the wall and let my ass hit the floor, feeling like every last ounce of air has been knocked out of my lungs. “He broke up with me a week ago—in my apartment’s parking lot. It was a real fairy tale. A moment every girl dreams of. Flickering streetlamp, total eye contact avoidance, a mumble here and there. I don’t think I could have dreamed of something more enchanting.”
“Did he say why?”
“Oh yeah. He told me we need to focus on the restaurant, that he can’t handle both things and in the long run he’s going to end up hurting me, so we should just break up now. Mind you, he said take a break at first, and I thought he was totally Ross-ing me for a second, but he changed his tune really quickly to breakup. Probably didn’t want to get into that whole we were on a break argument.”
“Okay, rewind,” Harper says. “What did you say to him?”
I take another gulp of scotch, savoring the intense burn singeing down my throat. “Oh, this is the real kicker. He said he wanted to break up with me, and do you know what I said?”
“Please don’t tell me it involved three words,” Rogan says, wincing.
“Oh yes it did.” I nod. “Told that backward-hat-wearing motherfucker that I loved him. I proclaimed it to all the cars in the parking lot. I love Reid Knightly, and then he told me I didn’t. Which, God”—I turn to Harper—“isn’t it so wonderful when men tell you how you’re supposed to feel? There’s nothing better than a human with a dick coming up to you and saying, That’s not how you feel, peasant woman.” I pat my chest. “Really makes your nipples hard, doesn’t it?”
“Umm, sweetie, maybe we shouldn’t drink so much. I love you, but you’re really starting to sound a little crazy.”
“Oh no, I’m just getting started.” I take another swig, regaining some strength in my legs, and pace the room again. “I’ve had the absolute worst crush on that stupid man for so long that I can’t even remember the last time I didn’t compare another man to him. He’s always been my gold standard. Reid Knightly. He’s the most irritating asshole to ever cross my path, and yet I’m that idiot girl who thinks she can make him feel, make him change his ways and fall head over heels in love with her. And just like the idiot girl in every other movie and book, I come up short.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” Rogan pulls on the back of his neck. “He was almost Brig-level infatuated when he told us about you two getting together. He was really happy.”
“Yeah, well, he got what he wanted, and now he’s walking away. And working with him is exceptional, just an absolute dream come true. But the worst part of it all is that it’s like, in his mind, we never even dated, he’s never seen me naked, and he’s never taken”—I hold my hands out wide and thrust my pelvis in the air—“that giant cock of his and shoved it right up my ma-moo.” I jab my finger in the air. Harper looks positively disgusted.
“What the actual fuck is a ma-moo?”
I wiggle my finger at her crotch. “Vagina.”
“For the love of God, just say vagina. No one wants you saying ma-moo.”
“I don’t know, I kind of liked it,” Rogan says with a smile. “Does your ma-moo want to play with my pee-pee when we get home?”
“And you just made my nipples shrivel up, thank you.” Harper shivers.
Rogan chuckles, the sound almost identical to Reid’s. It’s infuriating.
“Why can’t Reid be more like you?” I say, feeling deflated. “When you two got back together, it was—?” I pause and stare directly at Rogan. “Oh my God, if this has to do with that stupid, idiotic curse you four believe in, I am going to become one ax-wielding, pencil-snapping psychopath, and when I say pencil, I mean penis.” I throw my hands out to the side. “I will chop off all the penises.”
“I don’t think this has to do with the curse,” Rogan says quickly. “Although his curse could technically be in his head. Self-sabotage.”
“Oh my God, I will scream.”
“Okay.” Rogan holds his hands up. “Okay, just take a deep breath. I’m sure there’s a reason behind whatever Reid did, stupid as it might be.”
“Which means,” Harper cuts in, her eyes blazing, “you get to make his life hell.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember when Rogan was being a dick to me, back when I first came back to town?”
“In my defense,” Rogan says, “I was so goddamn in love with you I didn’t know how to control my emotions.” Harper melts just a little at that. Stepping out from behind her desk, she walks up to him, sits on his lap, and presses a quick kiss to his lips before turning back to me.<
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“When he was being awful,” she continues, “you told me that it was time to make him jealous, remind him of everything he was missing out on.”
“Wow, Eve. Thanks a lot,” Rogan deadpans.
“Whatever, you got the girl.” I roll my eyes at him and lean forward. “Tell me more.”
Harper eyes me, her gaze sweeping over my knotted hair and rumpled clothes. “Well, look at you. You don’t look like the cool and confident Eve I know—the Eve who can take down any man with one bat of her long, pretty lashes. You look like a disheveled bag lady who got dressed in the dark. And do you have mascara only on one eye?” I solemnly nod. “That’s what I thought. You need to pull it together, woman. You are better than this. You are stronger than this, and you know it. Yes, Reid broke your heart, but I bet you anything he’s just as unhappy as you are.”
“Yeah, okay. Trust me, he didn’t look at all heartbroken today. He’s probably glad he lost the old ball and chain. He was practically glowing today.”
Harper shakes her head. “I don’t believe it for a second. He’s good at putting a mask on—you should know that by now. And do you know what you have to do to strip that mask off? Stride in there with every ounce of confidence you have, do your job like the amazing woman you are, and show him that he’s the one who is missing out; he’s the one who should be hurting.”
“I really like that plan,” Rogan says. “I love my brother, but he needs to get some sense knocked into him, and I couldn’t think of a more perfect person to do it. He’s always thought he had to sacrifice everything for his dreams—that he could never have love and success. Show him that he’s missing out by not trying.”
Slowly, realization dawns on me. Yeah, I should show him what he’s missing. He thinks he can’t change, that we’re not compatible, that Knight and Port is more important than the bond we share? Well, fuck him and fuck that. If there’s anything I’m certain of, it’s that Reid made a huge mistake breaking up with me, and after this little pep talk from Harper, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s going to realize that.
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