Page 33 of The Perfect Mistake

“Well,” he says and runs a hand along his jaw. “I like putting out fires.”

“Never seen you in a firefighter’s uniform.”

“I think Sam has one,” Alec says. “Don’t think it would fit me, though.”

Absurd. The whole thing is absurd, but I can’t help looking at him. Smiling. “Might be a bit tight across the shoulders,” I say.

He nods. “Too short in the sleeves.”

I curl my legs under my butt on the couch. He’s not sitting very far away, and it’s hard to forget how it felt to be held by him. His hand gliding over my hair. His arms around me.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I say.

“Do what?”

“Order pizza. Stay up with me. Watch this stupid show with me… just because I had an emotional breakdown at the party.”

“Maybe I’m just in the mood for some terrible TV.”

“Take that back.”

The corners of lips lift. “No.”

“I’m serious, Alec.”

“What are you going to do about it? Smother me with a pizza slice? Kill me with a pillow?”

“Ballet is very similar to martial arts. I can kick you. Hard.”

“I doubt the similar part in that sentence,” he says. “But I’d rather not be kicked in my own home, so… the show is mediocre.”

I pretend to wipe the sweat off my forehead. “Whew.”

“I dodged a bullet, huh.” He folds his hands over his chest and turns back to the show. “So, men say that to you a lot, then. Asking about your dancing.”

“Um. Yeah, a fair bit. I mean, I don’t really go out, and the majority of people I’ve spent time with these last few years have been dancers… But sometimes.”

He looks at me for a long moment. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, something I can’t look away from. “I’m sorry that men come on to you like that,” he finally says. “It must get tiring.”

I shrug and feel my cheeks heating up. It doesn’t happen that often. Not like what he seems to be implying. Sometimes, yeah… but does a weirdo in line at a coffee shop count? It’s not like I’ve been dating a lot in the past few years. Dancing took precedence over a love life.

It took precedence over having a life.

Alec clears his throat. Puts the plate down and rises. With me curled up on the couch, he looks impossibly tall, and his neutral mask has slotted back in place. “Thanks for tonight,” he says. “I’ll let you relax in peace.”

In peace?

I open my mouth to tell him that he’s not bothering me, but he’s already turned away, heading to his bedroom. This time, I don’t stop him.

Alec

My fingers are clasped tight around the pen I’m holding. It’s not necessary, but I need something to channel the frustration coursing through me.

Around the conference table, my executive team is bickering.

Oh, they’d call it something else, but that’s what they’re doing. The COO and the CFO have been trading barbs for the past thirty minutes, and it’s about the acquisition we all know needs to happen. Everyone just seems to have different opinions as to how.

Differing opinions that have made this meeting run far longer than it was scheduled to. I’ve already texted Katja that I won’t make it home for dinner with the kids. It feels like another strike, another black X instead of a checkmark on the record of my fatherhood. It joins a long list of other mistakes I’ve made.

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