Page 73 of Strictly the Worst

He blinks, not understanding. And now I’m the one feeling annoyed. With myself mostly, for caring.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say. “I think we can both agree that what happened in Exuma stays there, right?”

“You know that’s Vegas, right?”

I look at him. “And you were in Vegas for the weekend.” Not that I was stalking him. I know because he told me about his brother’s bachelor party.

“Yes. And for the record, nothing happened there either.” He lifts a brow. “Apart from the strippers that I didn’t order and sent away.”

“You were with strippers?” My voice raises. And he immediately clamps his hand over my mouth to stop the office from hearing me.

I pull it away, grimacing. “Your hand is covered in germs.”

“So’s yours,” he points out. “And when did you get to be such a germophobe?”

I let out a long breath. “This is stupid. Can’t we just pretend that Exuma never happened?”

Linc blinks. “Is that what you want?”

My chest feels so tight it hurts. “I just don’t want to deal with drama,” I tell him. “I have so much going on in my life right now. The last few years have been full of it.”

“You think I bring drama?” he asks.

“Yes. And I’m too old for it. I’m not a starry eyed kid. I’ve got a child. A good job. A home that looks like it’s a bomb site. I don’t need this, too.”

His brows pinch as he listens to me. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

I don’t either. Not really. “I’m saying that Exuma was…” I sigh. “It was everything. And I’m so grateful for all you did for me. You made me feel special. Made me feel alive.” I give him a watery smile and his jaw tightens. “But you’re a playboy. Younger than me. And I have Zoe to think of. I need my life to be stable, secure. Drama free.”

“Are you breaking this off?” he asks, his voice thick.

“There’s nothing to break off,” I breathe. “We’re not an item. We’re just two people that had sex.” Mind blowingly delicious sex.

His expression changes. He looks hurt and I hate it. But I made myself a promise that I’d always be honest. After Jared’s lies, it’s the one thing I can do.

No matter how much it hurts.

He lets out a long breath. “If that’s what you really want.”

“Thank you,” I whisper again. “We’ll always have Exuma, won’t we?”

He blinks, those thick lashes of his sweeping down. “Don’t quote fucking Casablanca to me, Carmichael,” he growls, turning his back to me.

“Linc…” I call out, but he’s already halfway out of the door. He slams it behind him and I take a deep breath.

I should feel better but I don’t. I’ve done nothing but think about this all weekend, and I know it’s for the best. So why does it feel like I’ve just stabbed a knife in my own heart?

The knife gets twisted even harder the following week when a courier arrives at the office with a manilla envelope containing four tickets to the Linebackers concert. I haven’t heard from Linc at all. There’s been no sign of him in the office and I don’t ask anybody where he is.

It doesn’t stop me from feeling sick when I see four all access passes, along with a printout of what time we need to arrive and directions to the stage door at the arena.

“Oh my God,” Zoe squeals when I arrive home and show her the tickets and passes. Her face is pink with excitement. “How many are there?”

“Four. You can bring two friends. I just have to get them the details before hand.” I received an email from somebody who works with the band earlier. I’m guessing Linc passed on my email.

He didn’t have to do this. He could have be churlish and walked away with the tickets after the way things ended.

But he didn’t. And he’s made Zoe so happy. I need to thank him somehow.

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