Page 59 of That Friendzone Feeling
Hepushes himself off the fridge and walks around the huge kitchen island toward me. “Wereally should talk, you know.”
“LikeIsaid before, there’s no point.”Ihitch my bag higher up my shoulder and play with the zipper. “I’djust driven us into a wall.Wecould have died, for goodness’ sake.Andyou’d just told me you’ve always felt responsible for your parents’ death.Imean, it was alot.”Icircle myfinger in the air. “Therewere emotions swirling everywhere.”
“Ididn’t do it because we’d just had an accident.”There’sa tenderness in his voice.
Imeet his eyes, heat rising within me, as he slowly continues to approach.
“OrbecauseI’dconfessed my guilt over what happened toMomandDad.”Hestops close enough that if he reached out, he could touch me. “Idid it becauseI’mcrazy about you.”
Mystomach flips at the words that make me the luckiest woman in the world. “Oh,Walker.”He’sthe person anyone would dream of having.ButIcan’t let this happen and ruin everything. “Itwouldn’t work.Youknow it wouldn’t.”Mycheeks burn, and there’s a prickling behind my eyelids. “There’sno point.”
Iturn away and press my lips together to stop myself from sayingI’mcrazy about him too. “Sorry.”Mychest aches like someone’s wringing out my heart. “I’mexhausted.Ineed to turn in.”
“Okay,”Walkersays, the tenderness in his voice replaced by a resolute firmness. “IpromiseI’llnever mention it again.”
AndIbelieve him.He’sa proud man.Hedoesn’t beg.That’llbe the lastIhear of it.It’sdone.Andit’s for the best.Timeto put that absurdity out of my head.
Inod and head to my bedroom.
Slidingthe barn door closed behind me,Idrop my bag on the floor, and release a huge breath that trembles as it leaves my chest.
IfIcould guarantee things would work out withWalker,Idon’t doubt life would be everythingIcould ever dream of.There’dbe the laughs and teasing wealready share every day, but we’d fall into bed together every night too.We’dstill work crazy hard on the business, but we’d be building it for our joint future.Maybeone day we’d move outside the city, get a house with a yard where our beautiful son and daughter could run around yelping with delight and throwing balls for our dog.
Christ,I’mlosing my mind so muchI’mimagining life in a cheesy, soft focus, made-for-TVmovie.
Islap myself on the thighs.There’sno point wallowing in what might have been ifWalkerandIweren’t such good friends and our lives were not so completely enmeshed with the business.
Timeto move forward.
Andmoving forward means settling down for the night and browsing through the new dress options.Whatcould be more fun than walking a red carpet with a respected, talented, gorgeous movie star?Particularlyone who wants to promote your business while he’s doing it.That’ssomething to look forward to, right?
Timeto get into sweats and get on with life.
Ireach around to the back of my neck and tug on the zipper tab of my form-fitting cream wool shift dress.Aboutthree inches down, the slider stops.Itwist my other arm up my back untilIcan just about grasp the tab between the tips of my index and middle fingers, and pull.Myfingers slide off it before it moves.
Anothertry.Samething.
Damn.
Iwear dresses almost all the time.It’snot likeIdon’t know how to get myself out of one.
Igrab the fabric behind my neck and hitch it up as high asIcan to give me more to play with.
Ahard tug on the zipper but it just won’t budge.It’sstuck fast.Evena few jumps and twists don’t do anything.
Imove to the floor-length mirror, turn my back to it, and look over my shoulder.Nothinglooks stuck.Theissue must be on the inside.
Shit, this is annoying.Andmaking me hot.
Ireach one hand over my shoulder, the other up my back.Thezipper is stuck in the exact spot where only the fingertips of each hand can touch it.
Thishas happened before, years ago, andIgot out of it then with the help of a coat hanger.Islide open the closet door and grab the first empty one.
Ireach around and feel for the hole in the end of the zipper tab.
Gotit.
Nowjust to hook the coat hanger through, tug it downward, andI’llbe free in a flash.
