Page 11 of Her Filthy Mistake

“Why can’t I be paired with Violet and Zayden paired with Jace?” Of course, she doesn’t want to spend an extra second with me.

“Yes, that sounds like a solid idea,” I nod in agreement.

Zoe turns her head slightly toward me and glares. “Bite me.”

“That’s not going to work for what we have planned.” Carly places her hands on the table. “I promise. This will not be as bad as you’re both making it out to be.”

“Fine.” Zoe turns back toward her mother, takes a deep breath, and lowers her shoulders. “We’ll make it work.” She shrugged. “I survived passing a kidney stone after two weeks of excruciating pain. How bad can a few hours with Jace be?”

Landon slices his fork into the piece of cake in front of him and holds it in front of Carly. “Here, love, have some more cake.” And that’s the end of the conversation as their attention shifts from us to each other.

“Seriously? Spending time with me is as bad as passing a kidney stone.” That red, hot anger turns molten as it radiates from my head down to my feet and back up until my hands are fisted at my side. Knowing she hates me is one thing. Having it tossed in my face is too much.

Shit. It’s my fault she hates me. Why am I taking it out on her?

“Ple-e-ease.” She rolls her eyes and faces me in an attempt to keep our conversation as private as possible. “You don’t want to spend time with me either.” Her eyes are watery from the alcohol she’s drank. “You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“It’s not like that.” I swallow over the lump in my throat. Do I come clean and tell her everything?

“Never mind.” She turns away from me, lifts her wine glass to her lips, and sucks down half of the contents.

“You should slow down so you don’t get sick.”

“Like you care.” She finishes the drink and sets the glass back down. It teeters sideways, and she grabs it, steadying it into an upright position before it falls.

“I do care.” I care too fucking much, but what good does it do? I’m not good enough for her. I don’t have anything to offer her. I’m too old for her. We’re step-uncle and niece, for God’s sakes. Those are the simple things that could be worked around.

Her father. He’s the immovable force that neither of us can work around. And the second he finds out we’re spending the week together; he’s going to snap and blame me for everything.

The last time we were in the Caribbean, he made his position crystal clear. He accused me of trying to get close to Zoe, so she’d push him to sign me to a record contract. And he hated people who tried to manipulate him into doing anything. Especially no-talent, drug addict losers.

It didn’t matter if what he said wasn’t true. He believed it and was adamant that if I so much as looked Zoe’s way again, he’d destroy my career. My future. And if that wasn’t enough, he threatened to destroy Zoe as well.

So, I shoved her away and refused to look back. I didn’t care about myself. Then or now. But I wouldn’t be the reason her dreams didn’t come true.

“Don’t lie to me. You voiced your opinion of me two years ago. I realize I’m still a child in your opinion, but I know when someone cares about me and when someone doesn’t.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and the need to kiss her until the spark returns to her eyes is an overwhelming force.

My fingers itch to touch her as strongly as my brain needs to mix phrases and beats. Needed to mix phrases and beats. I’ve snuffed out that desire because writing music is a stupid waste of time when the results will never see the light of day.

Fletcher was right about some things. I was a drug addict with no future. I didn’t have anything to offer her. And with nearly ten years of rejection under my belt, it was time I stopped fooling myself into thinking I could make it in the music industry. I wasn’t good enough.

She swirls her head toward me and topples sideways. When she lands against me, my body stills, and time stops. Her hand rests on my thigh and her breasts are plastered against my chest. She licks her lips as her eyes dart to mine.

The room is silent as if everyone is holding their collective breath. There are no utensils clanging. Or customers moving. The world ceases to spin outside of us. What would happen if I kissed her? Would the ground shake? Or would I burn in hell?

“Sorry.” She cringes and shoves off me, landing back into her chair. Her face burns a bright red from the alcohol and embarrassment. “I think I drank too much tonight.”

The room explodes back to life as if the moment never occurred.

“It’s fine.” I swipe my hands on my shorts to erase the sweat that’s built up on my palms over the last few minutes.

“No, it’s not.” Her eyes gleam with unshed tears. “I’m acting like a baby.”

“No, you’re not.” I grab her shoulder and rub my thumb along the silken cover-up as a zap of electricity shoots up my arm and straight to my heart. It’s as if now that we’ve touched, I can’t stop. “I’m sorry I blew you off and ignored you for the last two years.” I can’t tell her the truth, but living with the wedge between us is killing me. “It was wrong and inexcusable.” I drag my hand from her shoulder and rake it through my hair. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but….”

“But what?”

‘It’s not my fault’ sounds like a juvenile excuse and leaves me laying the blame at someone else’s feet. It was my choice. I went along with what her father said. He told me to leave her alone, so I did. I wanted to pretend we never had that moment at the bonfire where I saw our future together flash before my eyes. Laughing and talking all night. Singing to her. Sneaking touches. Kissing in the moonlight. Making love under the stars.

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