Page 32 of The Breaking Point

“You made tiramisu?” I replied awkwardly. “Like, homemade and everything?”

“I even made the lady fingers.” Will sounded inordinately proud.

I’d attempted tiramisu only once as a teenager, and it’d been a failure. The mascarpone cheese had curdled (I still didn’t know how I’d managed that), the lady fingers had been mushy, and even my dad, who ate everything, couldn’t finish a piece.

So I knew how much effort that must’ve taken. Now I felt really guilty for being so distracted tonight.

“Wow,” I said because that was all I could think to say.

“So how about it?” Will gave me a small smile. “I also got a few of your favorite things. You told me that you loved lavender. I got a candle, and I even got you a robe since you said you love to wear one around the house.”

He was being so sweet that I nearly said yes to his proposal. But I hesitated. Because deep down inside, I knew that Will wasn’t the man whom I really, truly wanted.

“That’s really nice of you,” I said, “but I’d rather not. Not tonight.”

Will’s face fell. To his credit, he just replied, “That’s okay. Maybe next time.”

I needed to bite the bullet. “I mean, there won’t be a next time. I don’t think I’m the right person for you. This isn’t working for me.”

Will was crestfallen. “Did I push too hard? You can just come over and have dessert. I won’t do anything else. I don’t want you to feel pressured. I swear—”

“It’s not that.” I put my hands up. “I’m sorry. You’re a really nice guy. You deserve somebody who wants to be with you wholeheartedly.”

Will didn’t say much after that. He paid the bill, and then we were in his car, saying nothing. I wished I’d driven myself. But I hadn’t planned on breaking things off with Will tonight.

“Is there somebody else?” Will asked quietly.

I stared out the window. I didn’t look at him as I lied, “No.”

He didn’t say anything. He probably knew I was lying. But why be honest and hurt him further?

And why be honest at all, when I knew that Brady would never want me like I wanted him?

I felt like crying. I felt like an idiot for pining after a man who’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in me.

Was I a masochist? Or just an idiot?

When Will stopped in front of my parents’ place, he put a hand on my arm.

“If you ever change your mind,” he began.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry.” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good guy. I hope you find somebody worthy of you.”

After Will drove away, I stood outside, staring at the front door. I didn’t want to go inside because Mom would likely ask me about my date.

The last thing I wanted to do was to try to explain myself. Instead, I got into my car and went straight to a local dive bar to forget this night entirely.

“Baby, come on, don’t play me like that,” a man in a red baseball cap said. He slid onto the barstool next to me, smooth as butter. “Give a guy a chance.”

This guy had already bought me two drinks. I’d taken him up on both offers, not caring if he expected something in return.

Now, my bloodstream was pure alcohol, and all my inhibitions had disappeared.

Well, maybe notall.I didn’t want to sleep with this guy, or any of the other guys who seemed ready to pounce if I so muchas winked at them. But I didn’t care much that they were circling me like vultures.

“I’m not playing you,” I said, laughing a little. “You bought me a drink. I am drinking that drink. The end.”

“Nothing in life is free, darlin’,” he replied.

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