Page 38 of Kiss and Tell

If not before.

He rubbed his eyes, sighing heavily. He’d spent the better part of yesterday afternoon and today eaten up with guilt over kissing Lucy yesterday morning in the kitchen. He’d been so careful to keep his distance from her, aware of Joey’s interest, but those attempts had been for naught.

The second they’d bumped into each other, and she’d stumbled into his arms, he was lost.

In her eyes.

She had the brightest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen in his life. They reminded him of the Caribbean Sea and made him want to dive in and drown.

So he did.

He’d leaned closer and…

Fuck. He’d kissed plenty of women in his life, but none of those kisses held a candle to Lucy’s.

Not even Rhiannon’s.

Miles shook his head. He needed to put Lucy and her lips and her eyes and?—

Enough.

He was putting her out of his mind.

Clearly, that kiss was a result of Rhiannon’s reappearance in his life fucking with his head, making him remember what he thought they’d had and how much it hurt every time she walked away. In his younger years, Miles had been every bit as romantic as Joey, not only believing in true love but certain he’d found it.

Coming home to the apartment he and Rhiannon shared to find her sitting there with her bags packed had ripped his heart right out of his chest. As she stood there asking for her freedom, he felt his belief in true love and forever burst into flames, burning brighter with every painful word she said. By the time she’d finished telling him she wanted more from life, that being with him wasn’t enough, everything he thought he’d known about love had been rendered to ash.

Joey thought that being around the Morettis should have proven to Miles that true lovedidexist. Maybe it should have. But self-preservation kicked in whenever he was confronted with the Morettis and their partners, people living the happily ever afterhehad wanted, the one Rhiannon had set on fire. So he closed his eyes whenever he was with them and refused to see it.

Or at least…he had.

Until Joey tried to force him to open them, to set his gaze on something hereallywanted to blind himself to.

Joey had never alluded to wanting what his siblings had, never professed a longing for a threesome relationship. All his friend had ever admitted to seeking was love. Now it was clear that wasn’t all he wanted…and Miles didn’t know how to convince his best friend that he couldn’t be a part of that sort of relationship.

He wasn’t ready to give his heart to another woman. The way that single phone call from Rhiannon had sent him into a downward spiral had proven he was still fucked-up by his ex.

Lucy deserved a man who could give her his whole heart…and his trust.

Miles could offer neither. Rhiannon stolen every drop of his trust. That ability burning up the same day as his belief in true love and forever.

He shouldn’t have kissed Lucy. For her sake. And for Joey’s.

The worst part of this whole mess was that Miles knew his guilt was completely wasted. Joey had acquired a permanent grin since walking into that kitchen yesterday morning. It hadn’t taken his best friend more than ten seconds to figure out what had happened, and he’d made no attempts to hide how fucking happy it made him.

Without a clue what to do, Miles had fallen back on the tried and untrue, attempting to put some distance between him and Lucy again, reassuming what he was calling his mountain personality, aka, grumpy asshole.

However, his efforts at rebuffing her had failed miserably because neither Lucy nor Joey were content to leave him and his miserable attitude alone. It was as if they’d joined forces and doubled down, increasing the force of their tractor beam and finding humorous ways to shoot down his scowls. He was stuck tight, and because he was a damn fool, he was no longer fighting as hard as he should be.

His phone beeped with an incoming text. Miles didn’t even bother to reach for his cell. Rhiannon had texted him at least a dozen times over the past few days—just a series of selfies and gifs and some tiny tidbits about her day—and last night, she called. He’d foolishly hit like on a couple of the texts and, while he’d known he shouldn’t have, he’d answered the phone.

It had been a very friendly, run-of-the-mill conversation, Rhiannon claiming she was calling to touch base and see how the filming was going. They chatted for a little while about a lot of nothing, then said goodbye.

After a lifetime of history, it felt like he should be able to maintain a “just friends” relationship with Rhiannon. That was why he kept letting himself fall back in with her. It was easy. They’d talk about old times, all the fun they’d had as kids. While his memory was shit, Rhiannon’s was incredible. He would put money down that she could tell him what outfit he wore on the first day of seventh grade. It was uncanny the details she recalled, and it was fun to talk to someone who remembered his childhood better than he did.

These calls where they caught up after a long time apart didn’t take any work. God, they could go two years without talking, then she’d call, and they would pick up the conversation like they had just seen each other the day before. The problem was, those early reminisces never included the bad times, never ventured into anything that might be difficult or uncomfortable or painful to recall.

So, they’d strike the friendship back up.

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