Page 67 of No More Heartbreakers

It wasn’t like I was going to tell him the whole sordid story.

EIGHTEEN

The Whole Sordid Story

I pulled into the Deering’s driveway around eleven-thirty, half-hoping Aric’s car wouldn’t be there.

It was.

His windows were dark. The night air was chillier than expected as I crossed the drive on shaking legs and stood in front of his door. I raised my hand to ring the bell and froze.

What was I doing? If Aric even answered the door he was likely to ask, “What do you want?”

I wasn’t sure I knew the answer to that.

In a perfect world, you found the right guy, recognized him instantly, fell in love, and he fell in love with you. Happily. Ever. After.

But life wasn’t perfect.Noguy was perfect, no matter how great he might seem on the surface—I’d learned that lesson thoroughly thanks to Jason.

And thanks to the surprising breakup with Hale, I’d learned no one was “safe.”

Maybe the best you could hope for was mutual attraction. Aric and I certainly had that. So much so that I was standing on his doorstep in the middle of the night, ready to bare my soul.

If all we ever had was happiness-for-now instead of happily-ever-after, wasn’t that a good thing? It was better than nothing and far more realistic than the fairy tales, anyway.

I pushed the button and waited. The stairwell light came on inside the fan-shaped window at the top of the door.

A flash of blond fur zipped past the window, followed by a quick glimpse of long male legs and a blue shirt.

Aric’s face and tone registered surprise when he opened the door and saw me.

“Heidi.”

He’d changed out of his work clothes into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. His feet were bare. He did not invite me inside but stood looking at me, waiting.

“Um, hi. Could I come in for a minute?”

Aric stood back and held the door out of my way. I stepped inside, and he followed me wordlessly as I climbed the stairs and walked into the living room.

It was only one night after my first visit to his place, but the feel of it was so different. Last night it had seemed cozy and welcoming.

Tonight it was dark and a little forbidding, with only the light of the muted television illuminating the room.

For a minute I considered turning around and running back down the stairs.

Aric switched on a lamp and folded his arms across his chest. “So, what can I do for you?”

“I’d… like to talk to you. Can we sit down?”

He picked up the remote and turned off the TV then flopped into the chair we’d so thoroughly enjoyed last night. He gestured toward the sofa angled next to it.

I crossed the room and sat down, grabbing the throw pillow next to me and pulling it onto my lap. Scotty dogs. Definitely Mrs. Deering’s decorating.

As much as I’d rather have kept my vision trained on the pattern, I forced myself to look at Aric’s face.

It was stoic, almost bored. He was going to let me have my say, but he definitely wasn’t trying to make it easy for me.

“So last night,” I began. “…that wasn’t about you.”

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