Chapter Six
I can’t believe you just left him standing there with his dick in his hand.
Bianca’s text hits my phone first thing Monday morning as I’m reaching my cubicle. It’s nothing she hasn’t already said to my face a dozen times. She hasn’t taken the whole “Running out on Kyle” thing well. She thinks I should have stuck it out and talked to him. Somehow, she has it in her head that we can work things out. That the past is the past and should remain there.
I tried to explain to her that it wasn’t that simple, but there’s no reasoning with her. My friend is a hopeless romantic, and she simply will not stop until she has made her point clear and gotten her way. In this case, she wants me to see things her way and patch things up, so she can have her fairy tale ending.
The problem is that we’ve been friends since third grade. Bianca has been there for every milestone and major life event, so she knows just how deeply entrenched in my history with Kyle is. Some—Bianca, specifically—might even argue that she has just as much emotional investment in the outcome of this as I do.
I call bullshit. No one but me has to live with my choices, and I’m trying to be as careful with my life as possible. I don’t want to end up in the same blinded-by-love relationship as I was back then.
It took a lot of energy and work to get where I am today.
I can still hear Bianca in my ear, using my dating history—or lack thereof—as an example of why I need to give him another chance.
Yes, I haven’t exactly been lucky in love since Kyle and I broke up. A person would have to actually go on dates to find that. I freely admit that when I closed the door on him, I closed the door on every male in the tri-state area, too.
I just wasn’t interested in getting hurt again. Instead, I put my nose to the grindstone and focused on my education and finding a good job.
I got exactly what I wanted. Except, money and knowledge don’t fill the gaping hole inside my chest.
After I tuck my brown-bag lunch into the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet and wheel my chair up under the desk, I fire up the ancient computer and wait for the screen to load. While it does its thing, my mind rewinds back to that hospital and that room and, invariably, to Kyle and that smoldering kiss.
My skin tingles all the way to my knees. He’s a strong kisser, calling to mind my favorite movie growing up, Pretty in Pink. Maybe he’s like Duckie, I think with an internal laugh, and he practices on watermelons.
God, what I wouldn’t give to go back to simpler days, when the only thing I had to worry about was writing book reports and whose house I was going to tell my parents I was staying at overnight so I could spend the weekend camping out in the woods with Kyle.
We were inseparable back then. Maybe that’s what did us in. Maybe we spent too much time together.
There’s no point in rehashing this now, though. Lord knows I’ve been over it and over it enough to make a person nauseous.
What I should be focusing on is the fact that I left my damn wallet in the hospital utility cabinet. I was so panic-stricken after Kyle kissed me that I ran out of there without it. I’ve been trying to drum up the courage to retrieve it, the irrational fear of running into him again getting the best of me. But I can’t avoid it any longer. Today, after work, I’ll have to chance it.
My stomach flips with nervous anticipation just thinking about it. I know he’s not there, but a part of me wants him to be.
I’m so screwed up in the head.
Using the mouse to select a client file, I pick up where I left off Friday, imputing numbers into the spreadsheet and, before I know it, my troubles are forgotten, overshadowed by hours of numbers in and out.
Accounting: we have a love/hate relationship.
Numbers have always been my thing—women can do math with the best of them!—but when something goes wrong, as it invariably does, it’s the bane of my existence.
Today, the job is easy, and before I know it, lunchtime is closing in.
I’m setting out my cellophane-wrapped bologna and cheese sandwich and the guiltiest of all pleasures—Capri Sun—when I hear a throat clear behind me.
Looking up, I see Travis’s fat head propped up on the edge of my cubicle wall, smirking at me. Normally, I wouldn’t be so happy to see him, but the random sparkles glinting in his hair tell me that he received my present.
“You got a little...” I motion to my hair while looking at his.
“Dammit, I thought I got it all. Some asshole sent me a glitter bomb,” he complains while scrubbing a hand though his hair. “What kind of monster does that?”
“The best kind.”
Spotting my mile-wide, uncontainable smile, Travis scowls. “You rotten little... Paybacks are a bitch. Remember that, Sunny.”
“I’m not worried,” I say as I pull apart the plastic wrap on my sandwich. “Besides, you like glitter,” I remind him, thinking of the time he dressed up as a fairy princess for Halloween. It was one of the few times I’d ever seen him let his flag fly.
“Mmm, just like my mom used to make,” he says, his tone mocking as he rolls his eyes and changes the subject. “In like, second grade.”
I curl my lip at him. “There’s something to be said about the classics. What can I do for you, Travis? We’ve already established none of my shoes will ever fit you.”
He huffs. “You don’t have style enough for my wardrobe. Anyway, I was going to ask you if you wanted to walk down to the deli with me and grab lunch together, but there’s no topping bologna sandwiches.”
“With cheese,” I inform him. Travis has been trying to get me to go to lunch with him since I started here, and I have yet to accept the invite. I know he’s just looking for a friend, but frankly, I’d rather stick a pencil in my eye.
“If you were a man, you’d be a woman after my own heart,” he says with a wide grin, and it worries me that I actually understand what he’s trying to say. Straightening, he grips the top of the wall, his expression intense. “Actually, aside from lunch, I was popping by to let you know you have a visitor in the lobby.”
I’ve just sunken my teeth into the sandwich when he says this, so I quickly chew and swallow, asking with surprise, “I do?”
Travis doesn’t appear his irritatingly chipper self, I note. “Yeah, tall”—he raises a hand a couple inches above his head to indicate how tall—“dark hair, all business, kinda stuffy looking. Super-hot though.”
I frown down at the floor, thinking. I don’t have a lot of friends or acquaintances, and those I do have don’t fit the description.
“I told him I’d send you out.”
“Hmm, okay. Thanks,” I tell him. Setting my partially eaten lunch aside, I push to my feet. For some reason, I feel nervous.
Travis is right behind me as I wend my way through the maze of cubicles. “So, who is this gentleman caller? Brother? Boyfriend?”
“I don’t have either of those,” I inform him.
“Oh, awesome,” he says, deflating. “I hope it’s not legal trouble then? He looks like a suit.”
“No trouble that I know of,” I say, praying I’m right. The one time I got pulled over was for a broken taillight and I legit thought I was going to have a heart attack. My whole life flashed before my eyes, and I envisioned spending a solid ten to life behind bars with a girlfriend named Bertha. To say I’m a nervous Nancy would be an understatement.
“I wonder who it is then,” Travis muses.
“No idea,” I mutter, wishing he’d just back off. Travis likes me—that’s obvious. He’s also entirely too nosey for my liking. Nice as he is, it’s a major turnoff.
As we approach the smoky-glass double door separating the office from reception, I see the man Travis must be talking about waiting in one of the chairs just beyond it, and my heart beats double-time, recognizing the figure instantly.
My feet stop moving and I stand there, staring, trying to decide my next move.
“He said he had something of yours, but he refused to leave it at the desk,” Travis says, reminding me he’s still here. “Wanted to deliver it personally.”
The statement raises my ire, and I resist snapping at him or giving him a good shove. That information would have been appreciated five minutes ago. All of the pieces of the puzzle would have fallen into place in an instant and I could have prepared myself for this.
As it stands now, I’m two seconds away from a panic attack, maybe hyperventilating. I hope someone in this place has smelling salts, because I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out.
My mom’s voice is in my ear, alongside Bianca’s, telling me to get out there and take a chance. For once in my life, stop being so damn hardheaded.
I remember that kiss, the way Kyle looked at me in that hospital, the magic and warmth of the multi-colored Christmas lights surrounding us...
Then I start thinking about all the years we spent at each other’s side, the fun we had together, the warmth and the laughter and the love we shared.
A pang of longing hits me square in the chest, combined with loss and need and love...so much love.
I force myself to take those last few steps and push open the door, and as Kyle’s head turns and those blue eyes find mine, I feel the past hurt and anger slipping away.
I don’t want to be angry anymore. I don’t want to dwell on the hurt and negativity. I want...
Him.
I just want him.
Standing, Kyle’s smile is bright, hopeful, but hesitant. “Sunny,” he says as he meets me halfway.
“Kyle, what are you doing here?” I ask softly, coming to a stop in front of him. I forgot how tall he is. I have to tilt my head back to meet his gentle gaze.
He raises his hand, a black, rectangular object held between his fingers. “Thought you might need this.”
“My wallet!” I’m thrilled for more than one reason. First, I don’t need to make the trip to the hospital to retrieve it, which will save me a fair amount of time, and second, Kyle went out of his way to return it to me, which has to mean something good.
“Yeah, I saw you putting your stuff away, and after you ran out of there in such a hurry, I realized you hadn’t gone back to get it.”
I grimace, embarrassment heating my cheeks. “Yeah...”
Kyle saves me from explaining. We both know why I took off the way I did. “I got your address off your ID. I would have had it to you sooner, but the holidays had me running all over. Anyway, I swung by this morning, but you were already gone. Your roommate, Bianca?” he questions, and when I nod, he continues, “Yeah, I remember you two were tight back in school. Anyway, she was, um, helpful.”
The way he says that, and the look on his face, makes me wonder what the hell my friend said to him. I don’t ask, though. Frankly, I’m a little afraid to know.
“We chatted for a bit, and then she told me I could find you here.”
“Oh cool,” I say, thinking about how hard I’m going to kick her ass later for not calling to warn me he was coming. That wench. I’ll have to figure out something to pay her back.
“Who is that guy, anyway?”
He’s looking over my shoulder, and I turn my head to see who he’s looking at. Ugh. It’s Travis. The little turd is hovering over Shelly’s—the receptionist—shoulder, pretending as if he has some serious business to tend to, but the way his eyes keep lifting to me and Kyle, it’s obvious what his true intentions are.
The eavesdropping asshat. If he thought that glitter bomb was bad...
“Oh, him. That’s my kinda-sorta boss. He lords over the office—mostly me. Total busybody. I’m not really sure what he does here, besides walk around making it a point to annoy everyone.”
“Hey,” Travis says, no longer pretending not to be paying attention, “I resent that.”
“And I resent you not minding your own business,” I reply with some merry snark. “Don’t you have some work you need to do?”
“I’m on a break.”
“When are you ever not?” I mutter, turning back to Kyle. I paste on a half-hearted smile and reach for my clutch. “Thanks for bringing this back—” Before I can take it from his hands, Kyle snatches it from my reach, tucking it behind his back. “Hey!”
“Oh, come on,” he says, his tone as bright as the smile he’s now wearing, “you didn’t really think I would make it that easy, did you, Sunny Sunshine?”
Oh God, that nickname. I used to hate it when he called me that.
Now I realize how much I miss it.
No one but Kyle ever called me by that name. It was something special between us. I forgot how much his face lights up when he says it. It certainly brings back some fond memories.
But I won’t be drawn in so easily.
“Kyle, I don’t have time for this,” I say sternly. “I really need to get back to work.”
“Actually, you’re due for lunch,” Travis ever-so-helpfully chimes in. “You two should check out that nice little deli down the block. You know the one, Sunny.”
Twisting at the hip, I shoot a glare at him. “Yeah, I know the one. Thanks so much for reminding me.”
Travis grins like the trifling goon he is. “Anytime, Sunny Sunshine.” He winks, making me want to snatch Shelly’s family photo from her desk and throw it at him.
A low, rumbling sound distracts me and, frowning, I look at Kyle. He’s shooting daggers at Travis, and that sound? It’s coming from him. He’s growling. Actually, legitimately, growling. Like a rabid animal preparing to attack.
“Hey,” I say, snapping my fingers in front of his face when he doesn’t immediately look at me. It breaks his intense focus and those baby blues turn my way. “What’s your problem?”
“No one calls you that but me,” he says, shocking me.
“I...well...okay...” I don’t know what to say to that. It’s as if he still believes he holds some kind of claim over me.
And the way my body is responding to that primal side of him is a little alarming.
“You have to ignore Travis. He knows just how to get under people’s skin.”
“Is he a problem for you? Do you want me to straighten him out?”
He’s wearing a smile, but Kyle’s eyes tell another story. He’s dead serious. If I give him the green light, Travis’s ass will be grass.
The offer is so tempting...
“Just so you know, my finger is ready to push the red button. Security is a two minutes away.”
“Travis...” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
Kyle means business when he says, “It’ll take me less than one.”
“Okay, boys,” I insert, “this is a place of business. We don’t need this kind of drama happening here. Come on,” I say, grasping Kyle’s upper arm—I was right, he’s beefy. Holy shit! “Since you’re so fond of blackmail, we’re going to go grab lunch and you’re going to give me my wallet back, and we’ll all be happy.”
Practically, dragging him away, I depress the elevator button and the doors slide open immediately. I shove Kyle inside and follow right behind, jamming on the first-floor button.
As the door begins to close again, I meet Travis’s eyes across the room and just shake my head. He has both thumbs up, as if he’s just done me a favor and is pleased with his handiwork.
The man is delusional.
“I don’t like him,” Kyle mutters.
I watch the lights for each floor count down, one by one. “He’s an acquired taste.”
Unlike Kyle, who is everyone’s taste. Most especially mine.