His jaw did that clenching thing again. “Sure.”
Why did that sound like he didn’t believe me?
Probably because you’re full of shit.
“Manic,” a girl called.The girl, the one who’d looked so at home in his lap, stood by the house, watching us.
“I’m busy,” he said, without looking at her, voice no nonsense.
The girl pouted and walked away.
He watched me expectantly.
I had nothing more to say. “Okay…uh, bye, then.” I quickly spun away and got in my car, started it, threw Manic a bright smile and a wave, and sped away.
I gripped the steering wheel and forced myself to breathe. Manic had moved on. I’d snuck out of his room, put him off, and run away, and I’d missed my chance.
This wasn’t his fault. He had no way of knowing what a hot mess I was. He’d done nothing wrong.
You screwed this up yourself.
Yes, I had.
And now I had to live with it.