Page 57 of One Billion Reasons

“Well, I would like you just as much if you didn’t have any money.”

“I know, Laney.”

“I used to wait up,” she whispers. “I never wanted you to know. I used to wait for you if I knew you were partying. On the off chance that you needed someone when you came home. I worried—” She swallows. “I worried about you. At some point over the years, you became someone I worried about. You and Liam.”

“I’m grateful for that. I never had a big family. I love that you worried about me.”

“You nearly put me in an early grave,” she scoffs.

“I’m sorry.” Regret makes my head swim. I sit up so I can watch Lane. “I must have scared you. I know Liam and I did some crazy shit, especially during those Montauk summers.”

Lane’s face softens. “I could stand to get out of my comfort zone a little.”

“Let me see what I can do.” I wink.

“Nothing dangerous, please.”

“I got nothing, then.” I flop back on the ground, and she laughs, a genuine belly laugh that makes me want to laugh too.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. I sip my water and try not to focus on her breaths or the sound of her skin shifting against the sheets. I’m close to drifting off when I hear Lane ask, “What did you mean by there are no women?”

“Hmm? What was that?” I’m warm and fuzzy. I’m going to feel like hell tomorrow, but tonight, I feel great.

“Yesterday, I asked you if women liked your car. You said, there are no women. What did you mean by that? The Miles I knew in college had a parade of women.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” I say. Don’t tell her this. Why not? I can’t seem to remember why I can’t have Lane.

“Since when?”

“Few years,” I mumble. Since the day you stopped speaking to me and I decided I would rather be alone than fall into bed with someone who wasn’t you.

“Oh.” Lane is quiet for a minute, until I feel her hands around my bicep. “Come on.” She tugs, and I groan. “In the bed.” She grunts and pulls at me. “My god, you weigh eight hundred pounds.”

“My size isn’t the insult you think it is,” I mumble. She huffs a laugh as I rise on unsteady feet.

“Clothes off,” she orders.

“But then I have to open my eyes,” I protest. But I open them anyway, to see a pink-cheeked and annoyed Lane who has shed her sweatshirt and is wearing something she must consider clothes but I consider a mere scrap of fabric. Her nipples are visible through the silk, and I want to suck on them.

“I’ll help.” Lane steps forward, and I lurch backward.

“No way.” My voice comes out thick and desperate. I work the buttons on my shirt, and her eyes drop to my chest. “I want you too much, Lane. If you touch me…” I shake my head. “Better that you don’t touch me.”

“I think I should sleep on the couch again.” She bites her lip and looks away from where I’m pulling my shirt free of my waistband.

“Get on the bed,” I growl.

“I don’t think—”

“Get. On. The. Bed. I’m not going to sleep in the bed while you sleep on the couch. That’s not happening.”

Her gaze flicks guiltily over me one more time, but she gets back in the bed and tucks herself under the covers.

“That’s my side.” I step out of my suit pants. She scoots over.

Her lips part as she watches me move toward the bed. I try to look cool, instead of drunk and turned on, but I’m pretty sure I’m failing—ah, fuck it. I hit the pillow, and everything goes dark.

26

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