“Excited for your mom to leave tomorrow?”
“You have no idea.”
She chuckled. “She can’t be that bad.”
We’d actually had some deep talks, had dinner together, talked about my wine selection. “It’s been nice. She just asks me a lot of questions.”
“That’s how a conversation works.”
“You don’t ask me a lot of questions.”
“Okay… That’s how a conversation with your mother works.”
A slight smile came over my lips. With her, it was effortless. It wasn’t the way it was when I received an award or had to make my mother happy. It didn’t strain my cheeks, didn’t strain my spirit. “Thanks for everything. If you hadn’t found that apartment, she probably would have lived with me for months.”
“Would have destroyed your sex life,” she teased.
“I don’t have a sex life.” I hadn’t realized what I’d said until the words tumbled out, because I didn’t really think about what I would say before I said it—like I did with everyone else. I’d stopped picking up women at bars because the urge never came over me. I was busy with Derek, busy with work, busy with my mother… It just didn’t cross my mind. I was also tired of the stupid conversations, of getting them out of my condo, of ignoring their texts that popped up on my phone for a few days until they got the hint. It was purely physical for me, and there was no other stimulation they offered once the sex was over. They weren’t interesting. They weren’t smart. And most of the time, they were rude, careless, and stuck-up.
Cleo stared at me with her hands still in front of her, her eyes still glued to my face.
I didn’t know why I’d said that. “I’m making my mother dinner tonight, to celebrate her last night.”
“I’m sure she likes your cooking.” Her voice was quiet now, really quiet.
“Yeah. She does.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can get you. More wine. Anything like that.”
“I think we’re okay, but thank you.”
She gave me a smile. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah.” I almost invited her to dinner, but then I realized that would be weird with my mother there since she was so focused on finding me a new wife. I stared a little while longer before I finally turned and walked away.
Eight
Cleo
The elevator doors opened, and I stepped into the hallway, carrying the large vase of flowers for the residence. I got the door unlocked, placed them on the entryway table, and then locked up and left.
The elevator headed to the lobby—but stopped at floor seventeen.
Oh no.
Lots of people lived on this floor. Didn’t mean he would be standing outside the doors.
The doors opened…and there he was.
In jeans that hung low on his hips and a shirt tight on his muscular arms, he looked like he was going out for a drink, ditching the suit and dressing casually instead. His eyes were on mine the second the doors opened, and he stared at me for a few seconds before he joined me in the elevator.
Oh god…
The doors closed.
We started to move.
My heart was beating so hard. I was suddenly nauseated. The tension was suffocating.
I just had to chill for thirty seconds…then it would be over.
“Are you fucking Deacon Hamilton?” He turned to me, his voice loud, even though there was absolutely no reason to yell.
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Are you?”
I turned to him, wishing this elevator would just crash to the bottom so we could get to the lobby quicker. “No—not that it’s any of your business.”
“Really?” he challenged. “So, he just came over when we were talking for no reason?”
“He came over because he’s a good man—unlike you.”
“You sure thought I was a good man when we were together.”
Both of my eyebrows rose. “When you were cheating on your wife? No, you were a fucking bastard—”
“I left her. What more do you want from me?”
“Nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing.”
His nostrils flared as he stared at me. “You really aren’t going to be with me because I was married a few months ago? I’m single now, unencumbered, and I’m still interested if—”
“I’m not interested, Jake.”
His eyes narrowed. “You said you were seeing someone. If it’s not Deacon, then who is it?”
“None of your business.” The doors opened. “That’s who.” I left the elevator and headed to my desk, knowing Matt was still there. I moved past the elevators and saw him sitting there, my saving grace.
When I got to my desk and turned around, Jake was gone, probably storming out the front doors.
Matt entered the residence with his cart, ready to take the luggage and move it to the lobby like a hotel.
Margo’s bags were piled in the entryway, cream-colored and clean, like they’d never gotten scuffed up at the airport.
She stood there, embracing her son with a hug. “Honey, thank you for letting me stay with you. I had a great time. It was nice to look at your face every night over a glass of wine.” She pulled away and cupped his cheek as if he was still a little boy.