Page 137 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“He put a time limit on your anger?” Rowan is staring at me as though she sucked on a whole lemon.
I know how that sounds, and unless you know Thane, it does sound like a dick move…because it is.
“He works in black and white. He needs numbers and concrete details to work through problems, so to him, three days makes sense.”
“But still, he put a time limit on your feelings.”
“No, he put a time limit on how long he’ll allow me to avoid him.”
Sebastian quietly sets two mugs of tea onto the coffee table and then slips back into the dark house.
It’s nearly two in the morning, but I wasn’t sure where else to go.
“And that’s better?” Rowan hands me a mug of tea, irritation making her tone sharper than normal.
“I can’t believe he made this for us at two in the morning,” I mutter as steam rises from the pretty glass mug.
“You’re upset, Lottie. It’s Sebastian’s way of helping. You’ve never shown up in the middle of the night before, not even when we lived in the same state.”
“We were in college, and we were roommates the last time we lived in the same state. I’m sure I came home at two in the morning once or twice.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
We sit in the silence for a moment, blowing steam off the piping hot mugs of chamomile tea.
“You sound as though you love him.” There’s no judgment in Rowan’s tone, but she’s hesitant as she speaks without lifting her gaze from the mug cupped in her palms. I’m sure my raging madwoman appearance has something to do with her cautiousness.
“I do, but it’s too early for that. You can’t fall in love with someone overnight. Can you? And obviously, I don’t know anything about him. I thought I did, I thought I knew the important things, but if he kept this from me, what else is he hiding?”
“I don’t think love works on a timeline, Lottie. A day or a year, it really depends on the couple, but what I do know is that I’m still feeling my way in the only healthy relationship I’ve ever had. I’m learning that Sebastian and I have to communicate as honestly as we can, even when it’s scary. That’s the foundation I was missing with every other person in my life. Even with you at times. We really suck at talking about things that matter, you know that?”
I laugh, and it eases some of the pressure building in my chest.
“He was playing some sort of knight in shining armor shit behind my back, in my own company. He could have cost me everything, Row.” The pain hits anew, making me hiccup. I’ve never experienced torment this viscerally.
“What did he have to say for himself?” She stares at me expectantly.
Oops. I may have skipped over the part where I didn’t allow him to explain anything. I was so mad not only that he deceived me, but that my father was the one to tell me.
“Well, I haven’t exactly given him the chance to yet.”
“Lottie! What did you do? Run out of the eventCinderella-style?”
I lift my brows as I stare at my friend. I can’t believe she, of all people, is judging me right now. Until Sebastian, she was practically allergic to commitment of any kind.
“No,” I grumble. “I slipped out the back likeRatatouille.”
She stares at me for a long moment. “It’s not like you to back down from a fight, my friend. And neither is sneaking out the back as though you did something wrong.”
“I’ve also never been hurt like this before.” Fresh tears flood my cheeks. “He lied to me, Rowan. He was behind one of the companies trying to buy the hotline out from under me. He even lowballed me, the asshole. Who knows what the hell he was doing when he hacked into my company. But—but what hurts more is that my father was the one to tell me, and he took so much pleasure in doing it. The bastard was gleeful as my heart broke.”
“I hope your father breaks every mirror he comes in contact with and then walks under a ladder and steps on LEGO barefoot for the rest of his life.” Rowan is the most superstitious person I’ve ever met, and apparently it only gets worse as we get older. “But wait, I’m confused about Thane.” She sets her tea down on the coffee table, then crosses the room for a bottle of whiskey.
I immediately put my hand over the top of my teacup. “I don’t drink whiskey.”
She shrugs. “Me either, but a tiny bit in our teacups might keep you from puncturing Kade’s favorite blanket with your fingers.”
I stare down at the soft blue blanket, and sure enough, I’m clutching it as though it’s my life raft in the middle of the ocean.
