Just Pretend (Love Comes To Town)

I trail off.

Sure, the twins are my best friends, but the middle of the work day when I might have to face Raymond or customers at any point probably isn’t the best time to admit that I expected so much more from Nolan.

That I thought we had something. Something that couldn’t be broken easily. That a stupid part of me is still waiting for him to call.

Yeah, I was the one to suggest us ending things, but I didn’t expect him to just accept it. To just walk away from us as if it never meant anything.

“I’ll have an extra-large pancake with peanut butter, please,” Josie says suddenly, face dropping.

Shit. Raymond.

“Of course,” I say, with a smile. “Coming right up.”

Once the twins take their pancakes and leave (since Raymond is lingering like a fat fruit fly), the next few hours crawl along like a turtle stuck in molasses. By the time my shift is over, I stumble home in a daze, and am about to collapse onto my couch when I step in—

“Horatio! No!” I yell.

But it’s too late. I’ve stepped in liquidy shit and—

“You dick!” I yell.

He apparently had a diarrhea attack all over my floor because he ate…

A glance at the kitchen and I chuck my purse at the wall. “For fuck’s sake!”

The bastard somehow got into my last bag of ramen. The one that’s supposed to last me until next week.

Shit-smeared foot be damned, I collapse onto the couch.

At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if the ceiling fell in.

Chapter 25

Nolan

Today’s the day.

Three months after my dad’s will. Tomorrow, I’ll lose my inheritance.

Tomorrow, I might just call her, though.

I’ve been playing with the idea for the past few weeks. Had her number dialed half a dozen times.

She’s left me no choice. She hasn’t called. She hasn’t texted.

And it’s not like I can get on with my life without her. I’ve tried. I’ve tried going out, partying. It’s not the same. Nothing is.

Today, though, I’m just going to go to our restaurant and have a burger. Maybe even a beer.

Think about how I’ll win her back—if I even should. Being with her fucks with my head, after all.

Figuring out how I’m going to fund the rest of the renovations would be nice too. I’ve finally got the boys on a good pace, but them not getting paid would 10/10 screw it up. I can’t afford to have the club closed much longer, and I’d rather not have to borrow money from any of my brothers, even if this is a family establishment.

One step through the club’s front doors, and I freeze.

No fucking way.

But—mahogany swish of hair—Coke bottle body my hands itch to wrap around—it is.

It’s her.

I freeze.

What are the fucking odds?

I almost turn around.

Not today—I’m not ready—

But before I can decide, I blurt out: “Sierra?”

She turns around, gapes at me for half a minute.

When she finally finds her voice, she says, “Oh. Sorry, I—I’m just here to pick up my cardigan.”

“Oh,” I say.

Were her eyes always that blue and big? Was she always so gorgeous and poised?

Fuck me.

She starts to turn away.

“I was going to call,” I blurt out. “I almost did.”

She pauses.

“Why didn’t you?” she asks.

“Why did you suggest ending things?” I shoot back.

Even from her profile, I can see her expression go pained. “You thought I was capable of… then the fake engagement…” She whips her head to face me, with a look that’s sad and wistful. “How can we have something if neither of us trusts the other?”

It makes sense, except—

“How can we know that we can’t make it work if we don’t try?” I ask.

The sadness in her eyes wavers as she says, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying let’s try.” I try to smile, but something tells me I won’t be able to until I have her answer.

Her eyes widen slightly, then narrow. “What day is it?”

“What are you talking about?”

She strides past me, already shaking her head. “You know what, I’m not sure I can do this. Not with your dad’s will thing still up in the air.”

“The last day is today,” I answer her. “For the will thing.”

She freezes, her upper lip curling. “So, you’re saying, let’s do the fake engagement and—”

“No.” Now it’s my turn to snap. “If you gave me a second to explain…”

She swallows, nodding a little. “I… just need to think. OK? This is all so sudden.”

“Sure,” I say, even though part of me feels dull and swollen and slack, like I’ve lost her again. “Right.”

I let her walk out the door, and I don’t follow her.

I can’t stop myself from getting out my phone and texting her, though: Am I allowed to text you?

I’m putting my phone back in my pocket, hardly expecting a response, when: If I said no would you really stop?

I grin. No. Then: How long do you need to think?