You messed her up, Forte. Carmela’s words the night before had been haunting him ever since.
Open the damn door, Lizzie. Let me see what I did.
So he could fix it and move on.
He was over her. He knew that much.
But he had spent the night trying to envision the damage he might have done. He’d never meant to hurt her. The whole point of leaving it like it had ended was so that neither of them would get hurt. Or resentful. It had been an incredible two weeks. A Christmas fantasy, as she’d once termed it. He’d wanted it to stay that way. For both of them. Instead, he’d messed her up?
How?
She’d graduated. Had a job. She wouldn’t have gotten into drugs or alcohol. Not over a two-week romance. Not over him. The girl had survived the loss of her parents.
She was perfectly capable and comfortable with being alone in the world. Which was far more than he could ever see himself doing. The thought of not having his huge family in the background of his days was worse than any nightmare he’d ever had.
It was part of the reason he’d had to leave Lizzie behind. He couldn’t be Nolan Forte full-time. His family needed Nolan Fortune. A capable, responsible Nolan Fortune, not a guy who was letting something unreliable inside of him drive actions that would point his life in an unsuccessful direction.
Not a guy who’d repeat his own mistake by getting involved with someone completely outside their world.
His family wasn’t the only entity that needed Nolan Fortune intact. He did, too. He was already less respected, being the baby boy of the family. He had to try harder, reach success faster, if he ever hoped to be an equal to his three older brothers.
He knocked a second time, hoping that maybe Carmela was wrong. Lizzie wasn’t there. Or messed up, either.
A click sounded on the lock. The knob turned. As if in slow motion Nolan registered the door opening, not breathing as he waited to see her.
“Nolan. Wow. It’s been a long time.”
He backed up a couple of steps as the woman who’d been haunting him for an entire year slid outside, pulling the door closed but not latched behind herself, so that she could push back inside at any second.
She looked...divine. Perfect. His Lizzie, completely real, scouring pad and all. She did her own cleaning, twice a week, he remembered. He’d tried to help, but she’d kept shooing him away so mostly he’d watched. He’d gotten away with wiping the bathroom mirror. The sooner they’d got the bathroom clean, the sooner they’d be together in the garden-size tub...
He was hard. On fire. Having to consciously restrain himself from reaching out to her with both arms.
“Carmela said I messed you up.” If he’d been anywhere near the vicinity of his right mind he’d never have spoken the words aloud.
The thought occurred to him that they could be in on this together. Messing with him. For whatever unknown reason.
The Lizzie he’d known would never have done that. But then, that was the whole point, wasn’t it? He’d only known her for two weeks. The same amount of time Austin had known his wife before he’d married her. And Kelly had turned out to be a gold-digging, divorced, in-debt daughter of jailed con artists, not the debutante she’d presented to him.
He’d never have thought Molly would turn on him, either, taking her brother’s side.
“Carmela?” Lizzie’s confused frown was damned convincing.
“Your roommate? She is still your roommate, right?” So far he was winning the battle with the hands in the front pockets of his jeans. They were staying put.
“Yes. When did you speak to her?”
“Last night.”
“You were here last night?” There was a slight squeak to her voice as she looked around, and then back at him. She was shivering.
It wasn’t all that cold. Sixty or so. She had on a T-shirt. The sun was shining. No need for him to offer her his jacket.
“No, I wasn’t here last night.” Was he really doing this? He had to get out of the craziness. He’d known better.
“So how did you talk to her last night?” Even as she asked, her eyes widened. “She went to the club.” She answered her own question.
He nodded.