Page 13 of The Problem with Perfect

“Please tell me how the hell this could be a good idea.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but I cut her off.

“And for that matter, please tell me all about the thoughts you had last night. When exactly did you do all this thinking? When you were sobbing on the couch or when you were passing out drunk in Abby’s room after your little striptease?”

Bellamy blushes again. It makes her eyes bright in a way I’ve never noticed before, and that makes me even more irritated.

“I just don’t want Connor to think I sat around all year waiting for him,” she says, ignoring my previous statement entirely. “Ineedhim to believe that.”

I stab another potato. “Why? Why does it matter so much?”

She winces. “It just does.”

“Well that’s not good enough. I’m not trying to jump into some big, complicated lie I have to explain to my sister, or to Boyd. And Idefinitelydon’t want to put my own personal life on hold to cater to whatever this absurd idea would require of me.”

Bellamy’s fingers tap lightly on the counter as she listens.

“So the answer is no. I don’t care what you do or what you tell him, but the idea that we’re dating needs to be firmly stomped out. For good.”

She keeps her eyes on the counter for a beat or two, eventually turning away without looking at me again, instead focusing on scrubbing the dishes from the breakfast she just made.

Of course, I feel like an asshole. There was no reason for me to be that rude or aggressive, no reason for me to shut her down like that.

But thereisa reason for me to not go along with this boyfriend farce. Several reasons, in fact. I don’t like to lie, first of all. I might not have impeachable character, but lying isn’t in my repertoire. Life is always easier when everything deals with the truth. I’m also friends with her brother and far too old for her, so the idea that we would actually date in real life is not only incredulous but would cause very real problems. Then there’s my unwanted reaction to her inadvertent striptease last night.

No. Cutting this off at the head is the best decision.

For everyone.

I finish off the breakfast she cooked then head into my home office, hoping if I just disappear, maybe Bellamy will take the hint and do the same.

“I could trade you something.”

Sighing, I turn and look at where she’s standing in the doorway.

“Trust me when I say there is nothing you have that I’d want to trade for.”

I ignore the tiny voice in the back of my mind saying that’s not entirely true.

“I could work for you. I’m not an accountant yet, but I’m still really good with numbers.”

I scrub my hands across my face.

“Bellamy.”

“Rusty.”

Standing, I walk toward her. She smiles, possibly thinking I’m going to agree to her trade, but her expression shifts when I take her by the arm and walk her to the front door, grabbing her purse from the back of the couch on the way there and thrusting it into her arms.

“Figure out how to tell Connor,” I say, yanking the front door open. “By tomorrow.”

Her shoulders sag and she steps out onto the welcome mat, watching me with a look that makes me wish I could give her what she wants.

But I can’t.

“Good luck.”

Then I shut the door, ignoring the lump in my throat as I leave her behind.

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