Page 18 of Final Chance At Love (Chance At Love Duet 2)

“I am taking you home,” Kristoff claimed. “To my place.”

“I don’t think I’ll be great company,” I mumbled. “I don’t want to spoil your weekend. I think we’ve had enough drama.”

“You’ll never spoil any of my weekends,” Kristoff countered without a doubt. “What just happened isn’t your fault. If you still want me to take you home first thing in the morning, I will. How does that sound?”

“Okay.” I murmured.

“I don’t want you to be alone after all that,” he explained. The thing was, I wanted to be alone. When I got upset, I wanted to be alone. But maybe he was right, I shouldn’t be alone after what happened. “I am sorry how the night turned out,” he added, reaching for my hand to comfort me. And I held onto him, letting his strength wash over me.

I took a deep breath and let it out. “In retrospect, I guess we should have ditched the nightclub.”

Kristoff chuckled. “Yes… I guess so.”

“What did you say to Rick and Betty?” I asked, remembering the scene outside of the club.

“I told them to figure out their priorities,” he replied. “And to keep you out of their drama.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I caused their drama, which made me feel horrible since both of them were always there for me. I thought back to our college years when I met Rick. Betty was a bit older than us so my friendship with him went further back. Most of the time, he was my date when I wanted to go dancing since Jack hated it. I probably spent more time alone with Rick than Jack during our college years and there was never a hint from him that he liked me, at least none that I remembered.

We drove the rest of the way in silence.

After we arrived back at Kristoff’s, he took my hand and helped me out of his car, which was a good thing because by now my feet were killing me. As I stood up, I pulled my dress down although there wasn’t much further it would go.

“I can’t wait to take the shoes off,” I murmured. “My feet are killing me.”

Everything was killing me. I felt like I was falling apart on the inside. Rick had been my best friend since college. We’ve gone through so much together. Is it possible I had completely missed all the signs?

He was my rock when things were hard, always there for me. We were there for each other. When his parents died, we went through it together. Both of us were close to our parents and it helped having each other to talk to. He was with me through every hard moment in my life, regardless if he could help or not. But his support always made everything better. He was always in tune with my emotions so maybe that should have been a glaring sign.

Kristoff put his arm around me. “C’mon, let’s get you comfortable.”

His front entrance door opened, and his butler let us in. “Good evening, Mr. Baldwin,” he greeted. “And Miss Rose.”

“Good evening, James,” Kristoff answered.

“Hello,” I mumbled a bit embarrassed that his butler had seen me coming back to Kristoff’s house at such a late hour.

“Don’t stay up for us, James,” Kristoff added. “Whatever we need, we’ll grab it ourselves.”

“Very well, sir,” he acknowledged, like it is the most natural thing. It made me wonder if this happened often.

We walked to his library, and I immediately headed for the couch. I sat down, unzipped the knee high boots and tossed them to the side.

“You need a glass of wine after what happened this evening,” Kristoff suggested. “Make yourself comfortable; there are throw blankets back there somewhere too,” he added as he made his way to the far right corner of the room where the mini bar was tucked in. He poured me a glass of white wine and made himself a glass of scotch.

He came back and handed me my glass. “It will relax you after the circus tonight. I noticed you didn’t drink anything at the club.” He remained standing.

I nodded because I wasn’t even sure what else to say on the topic. I took a sip of the white wine and although I wasn’t much of an alcohol drinker, I found that I liked this wine, whatever brand this was. I took another sip, and as I lifted my eyes, I noticed Kristoff was watching me carefully.

“It’s a pretty good wine,” I murmured.

“Yes, that was a pretty good year,” he replied.

My fingers were nervously playing with the wine glass, unsure what to say or do. I glanced around the room again. This library was amazing; it was even more enticing at night than during the day. I noticed again all his bookshelves covering walls from floor to ceiling, all full with leather-bound books.

“Gemma, are you nervous?” Kristoff’s question caught me by surprise.

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