Page 7 of The Wrong Side Of Us

“Family is here,” he replied. “Besides, I think it’s time for us to have a serious conversation.”

My lips parted, but he shook his head, stopping me. “Later. Tonight, hm? Unless you’re busy.”

“I’m not, I just…I don’t know. This is all so surprising.”

Nathan gave me a sympathetic smile, lowering his hands from my face. Finally, he sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry for just appearing,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I understand if you don’t want to talk yet. It’s okay. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Maybe not talk, but catch up?” I asked, hopeful he wouldn’t deny the request.

“Catch up. We can do that.”

***

I set the table for the thousandth time. Nervous and eager, I paced through the condo, wanting everything to be perfect. I didn’t know why the hell I was acting that way. Nathan knew me well; he knew how I lived. I’d given him a virtual tour of the place time and time again, spoke to him almost every day, so why was I so nervous?

It was dark out already, and I had spent most of the day after leaving the gallery on edge. I cleaned my house from top to bottom, leaving everything spotless, and I was anything but a clean freak.

The reason I was so nervous was because I was going to be face to face with Nathan.

Alone.

In my house.

With a bed close enough to…

Yeah, don’t think that way.

It was difficult not to when I hadn’t been with anyone since him. Sure, I had tried dating and had kissed a guy or two, but I never even dared think about being with someone else in that way. I couldn’t.

Even kissing someone else felt wrong, like I was betraying Nathan in some way. I wasn’t stupid enough to think that he hadn’t kissed anyone. Hell, for all I knew, he could have already slept with someone else. I wouldn’t blame him; he had the right to move on, meet other women. Be happy. He deserved it after everything we’d been through. But for me, it wasn’t easy.

Having sex with someone meant forging a connection, even if I decided on an overall “no strings attached” setting. I would share the intimate act of connecting my body with someone else—letting them see me in my most vulnerable moment. It’s not something that can easily be broken.

In the past year and a half, I hadn’t found someone with whom I felt that connection. But as soon as I saw Nathan, everything I hadn’t felt in months came rushing back. It frightened me.

I stood up, went to the restroom, and looked in the mirror. I applied a bit of lipstick and mascara, hoping it was enough to not look like I was completely freaking out. The blush on my cheeks sold me out, though. He would know what I had been thinking as soon as he saw me. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice.

Finally, I heard knocking at my door. I took a deep breath and tried to gain the courage to face him.

If I opened too fast, he would think I was anxious to see him, but if I took too long, he would know I was trying to avoid the situation. In the end, the outcome would be the same; I’d still have to face him.

I pulled the door open, giving him a genuine smile. His dark hair was disheveled, and he grinned, raising a bottle of wine and a single red rose in the other hand.

“Can’t visit you empty handed, right?”

I swallowed, rolling my eyes and extending my hand to take the rose from his.

I ignored the shiver that ran down my back.

But he pulled me closer to him, stepping inside and closing the door behind us. I gasped softly when, much like the first time we kissed, his hand went to the nape of my neck, but I forced myself to stay level headed.

Until he leaned down, pressing a kiss at the corner of my lips.

“What are you doing?” I asked breathlessly.

How was he doing this to me? How did he still have this effect on me?

“Greeting you properly,” he murmured, placing the bottle of wine on the table in the entryway.

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