Page 14 of When it Comes to You

It's not cold yet, but the weather is definitely headed in that direction. Especially at night when there is no sun to warm the air coming in off the water.

When I hear the lock click, I push my way through the front door of the apartment building. I know the building well, having been here several times since I met Carson at the bakery a few months ago.

I still remember it like it was yesterday. He came in to order some treats and I was immediately drawn to his accent. His handsome face and dazzling smile didn't hurt either. He started visiting the bakery more often, and eventually, he asked me out for dinner.

Things have become what they are based on what we both feel like we need out of the relationship. We established early on that neither of us wanted anything too serious.

He's a rising star at the I.T. firm he works for and typically works seven days a week, so he doesn't have much time to dedicate to a relationship. And with the bakery taking off, I didn't mind casual. Now things are just what they are. We have a comfortable routine and while it’s lacking on the emotional aspect, Carson is extremely sweet and has a way of making me smile a lot.

“There she is,” he croons the moment he opens the front door and catches sight of me standing in the hall. “Get in here.” He wastes no time pulling me into his apartment, kicking the door shut as he pulls me in for a heated kiss.

I don't question his actions and let him lead me through the open floor plan and onto the oversized leather couch in the middle of the room.

Within minutes we are down to our underwear, and while I’m doing my best to get into it, I feel that something is different. Not that he’s different or the situation. Nope, this has everything to do with me and I think I know why.

While Carson is talented and skilled, when I open my eyes, I can't help but be disappointed that it's not Westin staring back at me.

Of course, he senses my lack of enthusiasm and pushes up onto his knees so that he’s hovering over me.

“Everything okay, Scarlett?” he asks. And while I know that it's not okay, I want it to be.

Nodding my head yes, I prop up on my elbow and use my other hand to grip the back of his neck, pulling him back down.

This should be easy. Carson is attractive, very giving, and when he talks, I literally melt. I can do this.

Yet, even still, it just doesn't feel right.

“Wait,” I pant, just as Carson is about to slip his hand inside of my thong. He stills his movements. “I'm sorry. I can't do this,” I admit, feeling the heat rush to my face.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, not moving from his place on top of me.

“No, it's not you. I just... I don't know. I just don’t think I can do this.”

He pushes back onto his knees, and like the gentleman he is, retrieves my shirt and pants from the floor and hands them to me before helping me into a sitting position.

“Is everything okay?”

While I appreciate that he cares enough to ask, I also realize that he’s a man. A man with needs. A man whose needs that I denied because I can't stop thinking about another man.

I don't think I need to make a bad situation worse.

“Yeah, everything is fine. I think I just need to go,” I say, looking into his chocolate brown eyes with an enormous amount of regret.

“Okay.” His confusion is clear, but he doesn’t try to push me to talk or to stay. Just another thing that proves what a great guy he is.

What is wrong with me?

Any girl would be thrilled to take my place. A tall, tan, dark haired man with muscles for days and an accent that is panty dropping good, does not come around often, and here I am throwing him back.

I should be asking him to agree to a more committed relationship right now, not putting my clothes on and walking away. Because why? Because I can't stop thinking about Westin.

I can shoot holes through my logic all day long but at the end of the day, it doesn’t change the fact that this feels wrong. And I’m not one to force any situation that doesn’t come to me naturally. It’s just not my style.

——

IMAKE THE WALK OFshame home right after ten, only it's a different kind of shame that I feel. Each step I take seems weighted and my shoulders feel too heavy. I spend over half the trip wiping away stray tears from my cheeks that keep falling, even though I’m not sure why exactly I'm crying to begin with.

How did I get here?

---