Page 38 of My Favorite Lost Cause (The Favorites #2)

CHARLIE

I wanted her to come back so I asked her to come back—but there are times when the people you love are best served by dishonesty.

And that moment on the tarmac was definitely one of them.

I don’t want the same things she does. I can’t give her what she wants out of life. It’s insane for her to give herself away to someone as boring and useless as Andrew fucking Murray, who might provide her with kids but will never make her happy.

But it would be more insane for her to choose me. I’m sure she’s aware of it, and after the stunt I just pulled, what are the odds that she’s even going to return?

And God, I shouldn’t have kissed her because how am I ever going to forget the way she fucking submitted , the way her mouth opened? How am I going to forget that needy little sound of protest she made when I pulled away?

I get back to Riverbend and go straight to my cottage.

I unbutton the shorts and reach into my boxers.

I’m already heavy and swollen at the thought of her, at the memory of that sigh.

I fist myself, imagining her lovely pink mouth, imagining her dropping to her knees and sucking me off as if there was nothing she wanted more.

I come hard, my back falling to the door.

I get maybe two seconds of ecstasy, and then my eyes open.

Fuck.

One more thing that didn’t happen, that will never happen.

I’m just standing here like an asshole with come all over my hand, thinking about a girl I’ve wanted pointlessly for a decade, and will continue to want for a decade more.

And who am I kidding? It’ll last more than a decade.

I shower, take a quick nap, and head to the house, where Elijah—in the middle of tearing out a rotting baseboard—does a double take. “That was fast.”

I shrug. “I caught a ride home with some guys.”

“Rich people,” he says with a laugh under his breath. “Did Maren come with you?”

My grip tightens around the hammer. “I’m not sure if she’s coming back.”

His eyes meet mine and he climbs to his feet. “What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything? She doesn’t fucking live here, and she’s got to deal with her divorce.” I’m way more defensive than I should be. Probably because he’s right.

“Maren loves it here,” he says. “And she wouldn’t just not return unless you’d really fucked up.”

Yeah.

“Fine,” I tell him. “I really fucked up.”

“Idiot,” he mumbles, abandoning his tools and the baseboard as he walks away.

Yeah.

I go to the second floor and return to popping out the tile in the hall bath.

What the fuck am I going to do? I don’t want to be here without her, but I also don’t want to be in Manhattan without her.

Which is why I should never have agreed to any of this.

I should have stayed in New York, working long hours, silencing every miserable thought in any way available to me—if you’re empty long enough, you get used to it.

You sort of forget what it’s like to be full.

I remember now. I don’t think I can go back to it.

But I still don’t want anything Maren does.

Early in the evening, Elijah shouts up to tell me he’s leaving, and I walk down to the porch. I’m still pissed that he asked me what I’d done to keep Maren away. Even if he was entirely correct.

He starts telling me the plan for tomorrow. Something about cloth-wrapped wire that didn’t pass inspection and leaking ducts.

“You’ve also got to decide if you want to expand the bathroom in the primary,” he adds. “I know it’s an additional cost, but if you’re thinking about flipping this place, no one’s going to want a bathroom that small.”

The scope of the job just gets bigger and bigger. Why am I dumping every penny I’ve got into this bullshit? I don’t want this house, and it’ll never sell for what I’ve put into it. I did the whole damn thing for ? —

The gravel rumbles ahead of us—a car approaching. Elijah and I both glance to the road just as a black town car swerves into the drive.

Two squirming puppies leap from the back seat, followed by Maren, blushing as her eyes meet mine.

What does it mean—that look? The fact that she’s here at all?

“It appears,” Elijah says quietly, “that you didn’t fuck up as bad as we thought.”

Echo and Narcy run up the steps and jump at my feet. With a reluctant smile I squat and pet them both while Elijah greets Maren and heads to his truck. I rise, a puppy under each arm, just as she reaches me .

“I picked up Thai,” she says, holding a paper bag aloft, her gaze uncertain. “I assumed you hadn’t eaten.”

I don’t have a clue what it means that she’s here. And it’s stupid and selfish, but...I’m so fucking glad I was honest on the tarmac. All that matters is that she’s come back.