Page 39 of Love Wasted

Present

I spent most of today trying to get yesterday out of my mind. I tried working on my manuscript, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open because I slept like shit. Eventually, I took a nap, because I couldn’t seem to concentrate on what I needed to, let alone stay awake. Paxton was the only thing on my mind. Even as I move around the kitchen, he’s all I can think about.

He was gone before I even got up this morning, so I guess we’re going back to avoiding one another. Maybe it’s easier. This way I can figure out what I’m feeling about my life…Richard…him. It’s always frustrating because I don’t have time for any of this with work piling up.

The timer on the oven sounds, so I bend over and pull the lasagna out then set it on the hot pad laid out on the marble countertop. The smell of melting cheese and oregano fills the air, and my stomach growls in approval and hunger.

“That smells amazing,” a voice compliments from behind me.

When I whip around, Paxton is standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb. His arms are across his chest, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Thank you,” I respond, unsure if it’s safe to speak after our encounter last night—not to mention, I find myself reluctant to be friendly when he’s been such a jackass to me.

He unfolds his arm and steps farther into the kitchen. “Look, Cass, I’m really sorry, about yesterday and last night and New Year’s and every other time I’ve been an ass.” He smiles, and my heart opens a little. “I can’t explain why I’ve been acting the way I have, the hot and cold, the mixed signals, whatever. Let’s just forget about all that and go back to our first night here in the apartment together when we were actually getting along. Can we do that?”

It’s my turn to cross my arms over my chest. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt a little that he wants to forget because…well, just because. I guess I can put it behind me—I’ve spent years burying feelings for Paxton Luke, so why should doing it now be any different? Rolling my eyes, I jab, “You’re giving me whiplash.”

He laughs as I turn and pull a couple of plates down. I dish out a helping for each of us.

“Did I mention this smells delicious?” He’s grinning when I look over at him.

“You don’t get to do that,” I say, exasperated by his expectation that I’ll forgive him so easily.

He takes a step closer, and he smells of a woodsy sort of freshness, clean. My heart speeds up a little.

“I don’t get to do what?” he asks sincerely.

“You don’t get to flash that dimple at me, say you’re sorry, and expect all to be forgiven. I do want to put it behind us, but complete forgiveness will take a little time,” I explain, keeping my voice steady when I feel anything but.

He puts his hand on my shoulder in a casual way, but it still sends a chill across my skin. “Whatever you need, Cass.” He drops his hand.

“Thanks Pax. I may not be quite ready to forgive completely, but I must be a little bit soft tonight because I’m going to let you eat my food,” I tease.

Reaching over, he takes my hand in his, squeezing it. “Letting things just work themselves out sounds like a great idea. We both have so much going on and honestly, I don’t want or need complications. I can promise you one thing though, I want your friendship.”

I squeeze his hand back before pulling it away and turning back to making us both a plate. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want your friendship, too.”

“I’ll grab us drinks if you take our plates to the table,” he offers.

“You got a deal.” I pick up the plates and carry them to the table.

A moment later, Pax joins me, drinks in hand.

We sit across from one another, and he begins telling me a story his mom told him about their New Year’s Eve. We laugh at the situations our parents still find themselves in; it’s like they’ll never completely grow up.

As the conversation carries on, I’m more and more relaxed with Paxton and our new relationship. Maybe one day we’ll think about the near kisses and high emotions, but for now, this is good.

Just as I’m about to express those exact sentiments to Pax, my phone rings. It’s Richard. I debate answering it, but when Paxton sees who it is, he insists, teasing me about “Dick”. God, I wish he’d quit calling him that.

“Hey!” My voice is high because I’m trying to hold back laughter after Pax whispered something inappropriate about our parents just as I answered.

Richard clears his throat. “Hey, what’s so funny?” He sounds a bit off.

“Oh, Paxton and I are having dinner and he mentioned something about our parents…you know what, not necessary. What’s happening?” I realized it wouldn’t be funny to Richard at all so why bother. Also, I thought he was out of town, so I’m surprised he’s calling.

“No, really, what’s so funny?” he repeats, as if I never said a word.

The smile falls from my face, and Pax notices. He mouths What’s wrong? and I shake my head.

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