Page 102 of The Arrogant One
He understood nothing.
“Thank you,” I said. “Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?”
“We’ve covered it all. I’ll be in touch soon.”
We hung up, and I stared at Lockhart’s front door, my hand on the bag of food that I’d brought. I felt like I was sinking intothe seat, the guilt piling on top of me, weighing down every part of me.
I couldn’t stand this feeling.
And I didn’t know how to make it stop, but I needed to.
I turned off the engine and grabbed the food, and I made my way to his door. Letting myself in, I headed straight for his kitchen.
“Baby, hi.” He was walking in from the living room with two drinks in his hands, both his famous old-fashioneds.
I set my bag on the island and grabbed one of the glasses, and without toasting him or returning his greeting or even pulling him in for a hug, I downed every drop.
“Thirsty?” He smiled.
I wiped my lips, my chest scorching from the liquor, and I banged the center of it, urging the cocktail to go down faster.
“If I’d known you wanted to drink like that, I would have poured you a tequila shot.” He took the empty tumbler from me.
“It’s … been a day.” My body slumped—my face, my shoulders, my entire posture.
“Are you all right?”
I shook my head, and when I noticed the concern in his expression, I changed my gesture to a nod. “Work stuff. I’ll be fine.”
I wanted nothing more than to tell him about the conversation I’d just had with my boss.
To unload not just that, but everything.
To give Lockhart all the pieces of me.
I’m Dear Foodie. That was all I had to say. Once that was out, the rest would follow. It was that three-word sentence I just had to get past.
“I’m …” My arms wrapped around his neck, and I gazed at his face.
He deserved the truth. Every single bit of it. I could do that. I could confess. I could put everything out there and see where it took me.
So, I started over, much more confident this time, and I voiced, “I’m …” But I got stuck again. Like there was a wall between the tip of my tongue and my lips and nothing could get through it.
He studied my eyes. “You’re what, Sadie?”
“I’m …” I tried again. Again. And again. And the only thing that came out was, “Starving.”
He chuckled. “Me too.”
“But what I brought over is going to need about thirty to forty-five minutes in the oven. I did bring some homemade guacamole. We can snack on that in the meantime.”
I hated myself. I hated that I didn’t have the courage to tell him. I hated that I was waiting for the perfect moment, and I knew there was a chance that would never come, depending on how the review went with Toro. If it was bad, could I ever forgive myself? Could he? And if it was good, could I admit I’d been keeping this from him the whole time?
“How was your day?” I asked.
He sucked in some air before he pressed his lips against mine. “Things have been a little wild at the office.”
“Yeah?”
