Page 31 of Getting Lucky in London

“Are you all right, luv?” the driver asked. “Can I help with anything?”

I shook my head. No one could. I’d made a mistake, one I would both regret and cherish for the rest of my life. Sure, I could go back and tell Michael the truth. He wouldn’t be mad. I didn’t mean enough to him for that kind of reaction. We’d gone into the weekend with no expectations. It was only supposed to be a quick fling. A fantasy.

To me, though, it had been so much more.

He’d always been more, but he was so much more than I’d imagined. Hot AF and great in bed, but he was also smart and funny. And charming and sweet and kind and thoughtful.

And you’re temporary, one of many.

Hiccupping around another sob, I clutched my bag tighter. It was over. Time to cut my losses and move on before I was in too deep.

Too late.

I’d fallen hard, and there was nothing I could do. Right now, all I wanted was to be alone, to curl up on Dominic’s sofa with Michael’s shirt and cry until it was time to catch my flight. Where I belonged. There’d be no dream job. It wouldn’t mean anything without the dream man.

The car stopped in front of Dominic’s house, and the driver handed me a tissue. “I hope it gets better, luv.”

I choked out a thanks as I climbed out. I wanted to be Michael’sluv.

As I tried to fit the key in the lock, the door swung open, and Dominic filled the frame. “Where the hell have— What’s wrong?”

I brushed past him, not up to his questions. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re fine? You don’t look fine.” He shut the door with a soft click that belied the concern rolling off him in waves and piled on the guilt. “And I’m sure as fuck not fine. I’ve been worried out of my fucking mind. Where have you been all weekend?”

I shrugged and shook my head, unable to speak around a fresh round of tears lodged in my throat. I turned away, knowing I looked a mess. There was no denying what I’d been doing.

“Daisy, talk to me.” Dominic caught up to me and turned me to face him. “And don’t lie. The fridge is still full, and”–he pointed to the stairs—“you haven’t slept in your bed. Then you come home distraught. What’s going on?”

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.”

My last thread of energy surging to life, I wrenched free of his grasp. “I’m a grown-ass woman. I’m not accountable to you. You’re not my fa—”

I clamped my mouth shut, and shame washed over me like yesterday’s dirty dish water. Dominic had been brother, mother, and father to me for most of our lives. He didn’t deserve my anger when it was really directed at myself.

Another flood of tears spilled onto my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Come here.” With an arm around my shoulder, he led me to the couch and sat beside me. “I’m sorry, too. I’m lashing out at you when I’ve got my own shitstorm brewing.”

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “You first.”

I looked down at my lap. He’d always been the one I turned to, but now I wasn’t sure I should. “I…met someone.”

“Here? In London?”

I nodded.

“You hooked up with a stranger?” He sat back, concern marring the sharp angles of his face. “I can’t believe you’d do that. I mean, you know I’m not judging, but… What if he’d been a serial killer, Daize?”

He might as well have been.I feel like I’m dying.

I turned to stare out the window without actually seeing beyond the memory of Michael’s gorgeous smile and smoky-gray eyes. “He was perfectly normal. And sweet and thoughtful, and the sex was amaz—”

Dominic slapped his hands over his ears. “Lalalalalalalalala, I donotwant to hear about you having sex.”

---