Justin dribbled the basketball he’d grabbed from Landon, looking like he was on the verge of throwing it in Blake’s face.
Sammy sank onto the floor and rubbed his eyes with a tired hand. “I need a drink.”
The image of Farrah leaving his apartment flashed through Blake’s mind.
FUCK.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The doorbell rang, a loud, unexpected chime that caused Farrah to jump and knock her coffee to the ground. The ceramic mug hit the carpet with a loud thud.
She issued a string of curses that would make a sailor blush.
“Coming!” She checked to make sure none of the liquid had spilled onto her sketches. It hadn’t, thank God. She would die if she had to start all over again.
Farrah had finished Yuliya’s apartment and was now designing the magazine editor’s Soho flat. The editor, a French woman so glamorous she gave a young Brigitte Bardot a run for her money, had relocated from Paris to take the editor-in-chief position at…well, Farrah wasn’t sure. She hadn’t asked. But it must be a high-profile publication if she could afford an apartment in Soho. Magazines weren’t known for their lucrative paychecks.
The doorbell rang again.
“I said I’m coming!”
Farrah skidded across the apartment toward the door, wondering who it could be. Olivia was at work. Delivery guys left their packages in the lobby, and her neighbors never dropped by. Heck, she didn’t know what half of them looked like.
She peered through the peephole. Her heart stuttered when she saw a familiar flash of golden locks and…was that a teddy bear? It was hard to tell, considering the object was so large it filled up half the peephole. Farrah could only make out what appeared to be a furry brown hand holding a red balloon.
Still, there was no mistaking that blond hair. She knew only one person with hair like that.
Farrah’s sweaty palms slipped off the doorknob. She could pretend she wasn’t home. But no, she’d already yelled and alerted him to her presence.
Damn.
Olivia was always berating her for giving away her presence before she saw who was on the other side of the door. Farrah had dismissed it as paranoia, but now she understood where her friend was coming from.
She took a deep breath, rearranged her expression into a mask of indifference, and opened the door.
Despite her vow to remain indifferent, Farrah couldn’t help but gape at the spectacle in front of her. Blake was holding a teddy bear—a massive, adorable teddy bear that covered most of his six-foot-three frame. The teddy smiled at her, holding a shiny red heart-shaped balloon and wearing a white T-shirt that said, “I’m sorry, Farrah” in red script with a little heart beneath the words. Blake’s other hand clutched the biggest bouquet she’d ever seen. The floral arrangement burst with purple hydrangea, lavender roses, lavender spray orchids—her favorite—and large green echeveria succulents.
Blake poked his head out from behind the fur and flowers. His cheeks dimpled nervously. “Hi.”
Farrah slammed the door in his face.
“Farrah.” A plea crept into his voice and seeped through the door, wrapping itself around her traitorous heart, which whimpered with excitement at how close its other half was. “I just want to talk.”
“We have nothing to say to each other.”
There was no way in hell Farrah was opening that door again. Her heart and her body were her enemies. Her mind was the only sane one of the trio, but majority rules, and she didn’t trust herself in Blake’s presence. No matter how many times he broke her heart, he had a way of melting her down like a candle beneath a hot flame.
Farrah was starting to think the organ pumping in her chest was a bit of a masochist.
“I have a lot to say,” Blake protested. “Don’t make me do it through the door. Your neighbor just passed by, and I’m pretty sure they think I’m a crazed stalker. They’ll probably call the police.”
“Good.”
There was a shuffling sound, and just when Farrah thought he’d left, he spoke again. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I acted like such a jerk the other night, and I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry I keep fucking things up. I’m—” Blake’s tone changed. “What are you looking at? Haven’t you ever seen anyone apologize before?” he growled.
Farrah’s mouth tugged up into a smile before she squashed it.
Someone said something in the distance, followed by the slamming of a door, and she heard Blake huff before his voice turned pleading again. “I’m sorry for everything. Please forgive me.”