Page 32 of Anyone But You

“In jewelry?” he asked.

There’s more?

“Well—” He paused to hiccup. “I saw some dresses that I thought would complement your figure… and some heels that would show off your pedicures you love to get… and—”

Please tell me this man bought me a penthouse. Please tell me this man bought me a penthouse.

“—and some… some lingerie?”

Never mind. This man is weird.

I stared at the ebbing waves, unable to meet Knox’s pleading gaze. I felt like shit for judging him because we were supposed to be in our vulnerable space. “How much have you spent?”

“Well over a million,” he confessed. I sucked in a breath before letting it out slowly. “Say something…please.”

I could hear the fear of rejection in his voice loud and clear.

“I find all of this odd considering how we’re always at each other’s necks. Why do you always go out of your way to make me angry?”

“Because your anger lights a fire inside of me. My blood courses through my body, my heart thumps in my chest, and sometimes I feel like I’m on the verge of passing out.”

I see Knox is going to Heaven, too, along with Josh and all the dogs.

“You’re giving yourself high blood pressure arguing with me all day,” I spat.

He shook his head in drunken defiance. “You’re like an adrenaline rush.”

“You’re a masochist, Knox.”

“My therapist said that,” he mumbled.

“Hmph.”

At least he’s seeing a therapist.

“I fired her.”

Correction: at least he saw a therapist.

“You should think about rehiring her.”

“Do you have any feelings for me, Victoria? Any at all?”

I glanced away and stared at the four hermit crabs that were in a standoff in their makeshift prison cell.

“I don’t appreciate being angry and stressed, Knox. It may have been fun and exciting for you, but there were some nights I lay awake wondering why the hell my boss hated me.Sometimes, it was difficult for me to get out of bed in the morning, but I kept at it because I had to pay for my mother’s nursing home rent.”

“Your mother’s… in a nursing home?” he asked slowly.

I nodded. “She’s in a memory care unit—the one you have to pay the big bucks for.”

“H-how old is she?”

“Fifty-three.”

“My God. Is it genetic? You do tend to be a little forgetful sometimes. We should get you screened.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure we can find an MRI and a CT machine somewhere out here.”