Page 101 of Kiss and Tell

It was the same thing I’d told Connor in that escape room. He’d wanted to meet my mom. I’d told him she would like him because he made me happy.

I sniffed quietly.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, my voice thick with unshed tears.

I hadn’t known how much I’d needed to hear those words until just then. I’d been working so hard, trying so hard. I hadn’t stopped to wonder if maybe I was trying for the wrong reasons. If I was working toward something that had no real meaning.

I’d let some asshole control my life. I’d let Connor slip away. All because of my messed up priorities.

“Tell me something, honey,” my mom said. “Are you happy?”

I inhaled a slow, shaky breath.

“No,” I said. “But I think I know how I can be.”

Thirty-Three

My fingers flewover the keyboard as I typed furiously in the document on my laptop. It wasn’t work for the bar project and it wasn’t for Peter’s bullshit. It was for me. My goals. My future.

A knock sounded at my front door. My hands jerked to a stop in the middle of a sentence. I listened closely, wondering if I’d been hearing things.

I never got visitors and my mom had already left for her business trip, so it couldn’t have been her.

The only other person who had come to my door in the last six months was…

Another knock.

My heart pounded in my chest. I stood from the desk chair, leaving it spinning in a lazy circle. I threw my messy hair up into a high ponytail to try and tame it. I took a steadying breath and opened the door a crack. Connor stood just outside.

We stared at each other.

His hair looked as if he’d run a hand through it multiple times, and he wore a rumpled grey t-shirt under his leather jacket. His long lashes swept me up and down. There were purple bags under his eyes.

“Can I come in?” Connor finally asked.

I opened the door wider and stepped back, letting him in. He hung his jacket on the freestanding coatrack and looked around.

“Looks kind of like my place,” he murmured.

“Are you impressed there’s no takeout containers?” I replied.

“I thought you only ate toast?”

We share a small, wane smile.

“I was actually planning on coming to see you later,” I said.

Connor’s face turned serious and he ran a hand through his hair for what might have been the dozenth time.

“Does that mean we can talk about what happened?” he asked.

“You mean you telling Jessie about us and me almost getting fired because of it?” I replied.

He winced.

“Or are you talking about me telling you we shouldn’t see each other?” I continued.

His mouth opened and closed.