Page 55 of Fumbling for Perfection

When my eyes are drained from an hour of crying and my body is pruned from the water, I drain the tub and dry off. Wrapping myself in my thick robe I use in winter, I pad across my small studio apartment and plop down on the couch.

The slight change of scenery doesn’t do anything to help my sadness. I’ve been staring at my blank television for who knows how long when my doorbell buzzes. The girls promised not to bother me, and I highly doubt it’s my father.

He rarely stops by, and he didn’t even attend the wedding, which was fine with me. He texted me this morning from Kansas or Kentucky, I don’t remember, wishing me well.

The only other person who would stop by is Jackson. I push myself up from the couch and drag myself to the door, buzzing him up and unlocking the deadbolt. My legs are too weak to hold me up, so I go back to the couch.

When he knocks on my door a moment later, I call, “It’s open.”

“Do you always buzz people up and unlock your door without asking who it is?”

I snap my head around and stare across the room at Walker, aghast. “Walker? What are you doing here?”

I jump to my feet and his gaze immediately drops to my chest. I glance down and see where my robe has parted, exposing half of my boob. Quickly, I close the thick material and tighten the belt around my waist.

“How did you find out where I live?”

“Is that another secret I wasn’t supposed to find out about?” He narrows his eyes—which, after perusing my bare legs, are on my face.

“No. But I never told you where I lived.”

“Why is that?”

Because I was afraid letting you into my home would let you into my heart.Too late for that.

“We weren’t supposed to...”

“Bullshit.”

I take a step back. The only time I’ve experienced any anger from Walker was yesterday morning when he learned I was his brother’s fiancée.

“That first time, the night before your engagement party, sure. We were a one-night stand fuck.”

The harshness in his words and tone has me putting up my defenses. “Why are you here, Walker?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

No. Never.“I want to know why you’re here.”

“You know what first attracted me to you? After the physical aspects, that is. Why I came back to Boston and showed up at your work?”

I blink back the tears that are threatening to pool in my eyes and shake my head.

“Because I believed you to be an honest woman. I don’t find them often in my line of work.”

Hell, he’s never even told me what he does. Turning defensive, I square my shoulders. “Why are you so secretive and evasive about your job?”

Walker tilts his head slightly, still studying me with that intense stare of his. I’m used to being on the receiving end of it, but when we’re naked and in bed, and it’s followed up with kisses and orgasms.

This look is just as intense, but the outcome won’t be the same. Not with the way his jaw is set, and his hands haven’t unclenched since he stepped into my apartment.

“Don’t try to compare my job to a secret fiancée, Margaret Riley.”

I curl my lip. “No one calls me Margaret.”

“Myfatherdoes. Your almost father-in-law.”

“In the ten years Jackson and I have been friends, I’ve met Sebastian and Lydia twice.”

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