Page 68 of The Forever Rule

I have no idea what I’m doing.

I was done sayingthis was a mistake as that would just be repeating myself. And maybe it wasn’t one after all. The moment that I texted my address, it felt as if I had had an out-of-body experience. So now here I was, frantically cleaning my house, and wondering why I had invited Aston over.

No, that wasn’t exactly how that had happened. He had asked to come over, and I was freely giving in.

This didn’t mean anything other than he would be in my house, but it meant more than that. It had to.

I swallowed hard and tossed my throw pillows on the couch and tried to make my blanket look casual on the corner, but I wasn’t a decorator. I had no idea what I was doing. I ran to the bathroom and pulled my hair out of thebun I had put it in when I had gotten home, and fluffed out my hair, and tried to look somewhat normal. I hadn’t bothered to take off my makeup from earlier in the day, so there was at least that. I slid on some lip balm, put my bra back on, and decided he was just going to have to deal with the real me.

The same linen pants, but I’d put on a double tank top with a cardigan. And every mess that I made. Including this evening.

When my doorbell rang, I nearly jumped out of my skin, grabbed my phone so I could turn off the alert that someone was at my door, and did my best not to run to the front door. It still felt as if I was doing this whole adult thing wrong.

When I opened the door, he stood there, in all of his six-foot-something broad-shouldered, thick thighs glory.

The fact that I was even thinking about his thighs told me that I needed to get a grip.

And not a grip on Aston himself.

He stood there in dress pants and a button-down shirt, looking so poised and professional, and a far cry from what I currently looked like.

His gaze swept mine.

“I feel like one of us might not be dressed for the occasion.” And then I blushed, wondering exactly what this occasion could be. He raised a brow, and I swallowed hard, trying not to let him see more.

“I just left a horrendously annoying dinner with my family, and Mother always makes us look slightly presentable.”

“So you’re saying I don’t look presentable?” I teased, before taking a step back.

“You’re just letting me walk into that one, aren’t you?” he asked dryly.

“I try. But why did you leave your dinner? Was it terrible?”

He shrugged, his gaze going around my place, and I tried not to feel slightly awkward about it. I had made a decent living and had only gone through some of my savings after losing my job. But it wasn’t like a house a Cage would have. We clearly had grown up in different tax brackets.

I had grown up in a normal household, at least as normal as anyone could be this day and age. I had gotten student loans, had made my way through college, and now was here, trying to earn a living. It wasn’t grand, but it was home. And I wanted it to stay that way at least for a little bit longer.

“I think I might’ve overreacted with my brothers. And I just needed to get out of there.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” I said softly.

“And you can tell exactly how I would react already?” he asked, and he didn’t sound condescending, he sounded honestly curious. Of course, he was right. I had no idea who he truly was. In essence, I had no idea who I was to this man, nor did I truly know him at all. He had been a figment in my mind, something that began with conversations in which we’ve been strangers, into something far bigger in my mind than it was in reality. And that was something that I needed to understand, to cling to.

I wanted to know who he truly was, beyond who I thought he was. I wanted to know why every time I thought about what we could have had, my heart ached. Or why I couldn’t stop thinking about him—even when I knew it would be better to walk away.

“I didn’t mean to overreact. We were just talking about nothing and everything, and then as usual, someone said something stupid, and somebody else overreacted. It’s just the fact that I’m usually not the overreacting one.”

“Maybe it was your turn?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just feel a little off kilter.”

His gaze met mine, and I swallowed hard. Why was he here?

“So you didn’t eat then,” I blurted. “I can make you a sandwich.”

He smiled. “You don’t need to make me a sandwich, Blakely.”

“You didn’t eat, let me feed you. Please?” I asked, wondering why I was begging him to let me feed him. I had no idea what my brain was doing, but I was just going with the motions. Whatever motions those may be.

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