Page 27 of Blindsided By Fake Love

“How’d that work out for you?” She turns to me with a smile so bright that I can’t help but follow her lead.

“Hmmm, pretty bad.” I snort, shrugging a shoulder. “So bad that I thought about it for the next two years. Just ask my cousin. He had no problem remembering even though I haven’t talked about you in years. However, if you had just let me explain what happened before you left, it’s possible that we could’ve cleared things up sooner. But nooooo, you had to hold a grudge.”

I look her way and find her facing forward. When she turns toward me with dumbfounded hazel eyes I gently nudge her. “You can still apologize.”

“What if I’m not sorry?” She playfully slaps my arm, and I pull it away like she hurt me.

“That’s not what you said in Vegas,” I tease, keeping my gaze forward. I slowly exhale and my stomach sinks a little bit.

She covers her face with her hands and groans. “I wish I could remember that night. At the very least, I wish I could remember what I said.”

How much do I say? Everything? Nothing? I don’t know.

But she’s here. Maybe I can just let myself go with the flow? Let her decide? What if I’m just honest about how I feel?

“I do too,” I say softly, then pull into a parking spot down the street from where we’re eating. I kill the engine and turn to fully face her. She’s playing with her hair and staring out the passenger-side window. “Kit.”

She turns and faces me, worry lining her forehead. I grab her hand and gently hold it in mine, rubbing my thumb on her palm. “I can tell you…if you want. But I also think what you said that night doesn’t matter as much as the fact that we’re here. Now.”

Chapter Twelve

Kit

Beau’stouchsetsmynerves humming. I can barely focus on what he’s saying, but the emotion in his stare has all of me nearly melting.

Fear fills me at the thought of admitting how I felt, feel, about Beau. I wasn’t myself that night in Las Vegas, and any filter I had was gone.

Clearly, I still care about him—even I can acknowledge that to myself. But am I ready to dive in even more than I already have?

“I know why I married you,” he says gruffly, making my stomach flutter. “Even if it was spontaneous and insane. I don’t regret it.”

“What about the annulment?” I ask, swallowing hard. “You said you wanted an annulment—”

“No, I didn’t.” There’s an earnest gleam in his look that makes my stomach flip. “I only brought it up because you seemed so distraught.”

He didn’t? I could’ve sworn he did, but honestly that morning is a blur.

He lifts his hand to my face, and my breath hitches at the touch. I close my eyes and lean into his palm. I bask at how his thumb running over my cheek makes my body hum.

“You were so panicked after everything so I said what I thought you needed to hear. Not whatIwanted to say.” His voice is soft but sure, and it’s doing all kinds of things to my insides. Not to mention the way his voice causes tingles to course through me. “At the time, I didn’t know we lived around the corner from each other, or I may have said something entirely different.”

“You living around the corner was a surprise!” I shake my head, thinking about my reaction.

“‘Are you stalking me?’” Beau razzes. “That was the worst thing anyone’s ever asked me.”

“Well, you did kind of stalk me that summer before college,” I giggle. His hand goes still, and I glance up. His eyes are filled with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

“I should’ve tried harder,” he whispers. “I was a fool to let you go.”

Heat pours through my body and fills my belly. My chin drops, and I look away. “No, you weren’t.” I push through a tight throat. “I was.”

Beau’s thumb gently lifts my chin, and my gaze slams into his. Countless emotions run through his eyes like a carousel. I can’t keep up with them. But I can sense them. My gaze drops to his lips, and I watch as they part.

“Kit,” he hoarsely breathes out my name. His voice sends a chill down to my toes. When he raises his other hand to cup my face, a sigh escapes me, and I sink into his touch.

The air simmers with electricity, and I wonder if he can hear my heart racing. I hear him sigh contentedly when I lift my hand and wrap it around his wrist. When I open my eyes, the air is sucked from my lungs.

The emotion staring back at me is pulling my body toward him like a magnet. The pull is overwhelming, but I’m not afraid. I want nothing more than to touch him.

---