Page 36 of Pretend Girl (The Lucky Girls 4)

“Right,” she says. “A mistake.” She adds the last word in almost a whisper. “That’s…” she clears her throat. “What I was going to say.”

“I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

“No, it takes two to tango. But we’re adults, right?”

“We can deal with our mistakes maturely,” I agree.

She hesitates before she nods again. “Right.” I get the feeling she might have wanted to say something else, but I can’t let her say something else. I can’t let her tell me last night meant something because then I’ll feel like more of an asshole than I already do for drawing the line right here.

But it has to be done before I get too close to her. Before I get so caught up in her that I forget about the bigger picture.

I force myself to think about my mom. About her bruised eyes and broken ribs and tears that physically hurt. Not even crying was a relief for her because of what my dad did to her.

I can’t be that person. I won’t set Rachel up to be with a man who has that in his past, in hisblood. I chose not to have a family a long time ago, and I can’t change it now just because after all this time, someone came along who makes me wonder what it might be like to actually love her.

“Do you have anything you wanted to discuss with me about my wardrobe?” I ask, forcing the topic to work.

Rachel shakes her head. “Nothing we can’t discuss later.”

“Good, good. I have a weekend retreat at the end of the month I’d like you to consider when you do my wardrobe. I didn’t think of that when we started. I’ll send you the details.”

“Okay,” Rachel says. She looks a little confused. And hurt.

I hate that I’m doing this to her.

But rather that, than the alternative. I need to remind her she’s just an employee. I can’t have her be anything else. No matter how much I want her to be.

“Invoice me with the additional work as soon as you can and I’ll make sure you’re paid for it.”

“Okay,” Rachel says. She walks to the scullery and puts her coffee cup in the sink. “I think I should get going.”

“Right,” I say.

She walks to me and looks up at me with her bright blue eyes. In them are a world of questions when she studies my face, and her mouth twitches like she’s about to voice them.

“I’ll be in touch,” she says instead. “Thank you for… dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” I say.

I escort her to my door. She walks barefoot, heels in hand, until she reaches the elevator. While she waits for the elevator to come, she puts on her heels and runs her fingers through her hair. Aside from the makeup that she’s not wearing anymore, it’s like nothing happened between us. She’s removed all signs that we were together.

When the elevator doors open, she steps in. I lift my hand in a half-wave, but she’s not looking at me.

Fuck, I’ve hurt her.

The doors close and the elevator takes her away from me.

I slam my door shut harder than I should and walk back to the kitchen. I find a bottle of beer in the fridge, crack it open, and down at least half of its contents before I come up for air.

It’s way too early to be drinking. And I don’t drink a lot as a rule—I won’t be like my dad. But I need this drink, now.

After I finish the beer, I shower and get dressed to meet Emma at the gym. Thank God for our standing Saturday morning workout.

When I arrive at the gym, Emma waits for me.

“You’re late,” she says.

“Sorry, something came up this morning.”

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