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“Breathtaking,” I say under my breath, my pulse quickening as I head to my closet. I need space before I do something I shouldn’t.
“It was my idea to take a break with Samson,” she says from my room, her tone thoughtful.
“You suggested it?” I slide on some fresh joggers and chuckle. “I’m glad you did.”
She moves to the doorway of my closet. The light halos around her head and the air around us grows heavy.
“Why?” Her question hangs.
“Because we would’ve never met.” The truth swirls in the space between us. “You’d have had no reason to go on shitty dates and then visit Sluggers afterward.”
“You’re right,” she says. “It’s almost like my bad dates led me to you.”
“Something led me to you—that’s for sure,” I say while rummaging through my drawers for clothes for her.
She steps deeper into my closet, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her.
I meet her gaze. “The woman he fell in love with—are they still together?”
“No,” she replies, her voice kind but resolute. “They broke up over the summer.”
“Wow. So, he’s single, and you’re going on a date with him on Friday?” I pry, glancing back to catch her reaction.
“That’s right,” she admits, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes betraying the calmness in her tone. “He was great in bed. And it’s beenforever.”
“Did he get you off?” I ask, tossing the T-shirt and joggers to her.
“Yes,” she hesitates, sliding the clothes over her bra and panties that are already dry. “Plenty of times.”
The thought makes my jaw clench. “You just don’t seem like asecond-chance romancekind of girl.”
“I’m not. But I can ignore almostanythingfor some good D.” She giggles. “Might actually get some this weekend.”
I turn to her with my arms crossed over my bare chest. “Closure is important.”
“Is that what you believe meeting him will give me? Closure?” she asks, her eyes lock on mine.
“I hope so,” I say, trying not to sound jealous. I’m blaming the bourbon.
I glance at her wearing my shirt and joggers, both too baggy, swallowing her whole. She spins around, and the jewelry I bought for her catches the light. I take a step forward, sliding my hand under the necklace.
She looks up at me. “This is too much.”
“Not when it comes to you,” I mutter, dropping the diamond. “More comfortable?”
“A million times.” She beams, moving into my room.
Carlee settles on the edge of my bed. The comforter crinkles beneath her, and she smooths her hand across the delicate fabric. I glance at her over my shoulder as I flick on the fireplace in my room.
“Dangerous place to be,” I warn, a teasing note in my voice.
Carlee smirks, propping herself up on her elbow, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Is this where all the wild sex happens?”
“Believe it or not, you’re the first woman in this room.”
She arches an eyebrow. “You were married for three years. How’s that even possible?”
“Lena declared this penthouse was a piece of shit and urged me to sell it. I refused and never invited her back.”