Court stares at me. “Aw, no, come on. Don’t do that.” He plucks a Kleenex from the table and moves closer.
Then I realize I’m crying. Damn it. I swipe at the tears with the backs of my hands, embarrassed and furious with myself. “I’m fine. Just something in my eyes.” I lie worse than a three-year-old, but I hate crying in front of people. It’s so humiliating and ridiculous. “I gotta go.”
He jerks to a stop. “Go? Where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere. I need to…have some space and think. What I learned today just sucker-punched me.”
I stumble out of the place…and into the waiting elevator. Once I’m in the garage, I run to my car. But in the Acura, seated behind the wheel, I realize I have nowhere to go. My apa
rtment is empty now. And most of my furniture’s gone, too—sold on Craigslist.
This is why you don’t move in with a guy.
I heave a sigh, then drive toward the small house Curie and Joe share. That’s the only place I can go anyway.
I pull up to the house, glowing with bright lights inside. It’s pretty and perfect, just like my twin and her life. And she’s going to move to an even prettier and more perfect place soon.
My car comes to a stop. I don’t even know what I’m going to say. I just need to be around someone who’s known me all my life and is going to understand where I’m coming from.
Moving with the slowness and deliberate care of a person who’s been seriously injured, I get out of the car, walk toward her door and ring.
The door opens. Curie takes one look at my face, then hugs me hard.
“Sorry to come here like this,” I say, sniffing.
“Sweetie, don’t even think that,” she says, pulling me inside.
The door shuts behind me.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Court
I don’t cancel my Friday night plans with Nate. Well, plans. Nate just called me out of the blue to go clubbing at Z. He said to bring Skittles, but I came alone, telling him she was busy.
That’s why she hasn’t called or texted since she left eight days ago, I tell myself, even though I texted her until my fingers were sore, and called her until I had to recharge my phone. I even drove to OWM like a lost puppy, but I couldn’t make myself go in to confront her. I didn’t want people to hear us argue and realize I opened an account there to get her an interview. Not because Gavin and I had any kind of illicit deal, but because I don’t want it to affect Skittles’ image there. Reputation matters.
But I still stand by my point that I didn’t do anything wrong, so what the hell. Okay, so maybe I should’ve told her about the talk I had with Gavin, but he would’ve never hired her unless she deserved the job, so it’s a wash. Besides, I had other things on my mind. Like her saying how it couldn’t be love. So technically it was her fault for distracting me.
Okay, maybe not really her fault, because she didn’t know I can speak Klingon. Or that I have real feelings for her. Feelings that are a mixture of adoration, respect, love and so much more.
But sitting in the VIP lounge isn’t the same without Skittles dancing somewhere in the club like before. I almost feel like I can sense her down there, except she isn’t there.
“Hey, what else do you think I can add?” Nate’s sudden question interrupts my brooding.
“What?”
He sighs, clearly annoyed. “Didn’t you listen? Every bachelor needs to submit a date plan for Elizabeth’s auction. So I’m saying flying to Las Vegas on my private jet and having a drunken orgy. But I wonder if there’s something else I can add to make it sound really disgusting.”
“Mud wrestling?” I suggest, my voice full of the enthusiasm of a man facing his last meal.
“Not unless the girls are hot. And naked.”
“You should say fly commercial economy.”
“That’s pain and suffering for me.” Nate shudders. “Ugh. No.”
“Genital piercing. Heard it scares women away.” I didn’t, but I don’t really care that much.