A Not So Meet Cute(127)

Annoyed with the smirk, I fold my arms across my chest and ask, “Do you find humor in this?”

“I do. Reminds me of our early days.”

Me too.

“I was more partial to our later days.” I look away.

“Don’t get me wrong, so was I, but it’s nice to bring things full circle, don’t you think?”

“I think we need to get on with whatever presentation you might have so I can move on.”

That pisses him off, judging by the narrowing of his eyes and clenching of his jaw. Given the shift in our relationship, I didn’t think it was possible to revisit what it was like when we were first together, but I was wrong. We could very much get there.

But what I hate is that it invigorates me.

His jaw twitches as he reaches out and takes one of my hands, and this time I let him. Holding it firmly, he stares me down and simply says, “I love you.”

The words stun me.

They take my breath away.

But they also don’t feel entirely real.

“I don’t believe you,” I say. “How do I know you’re not just saying that?”

Frustration laces through his eyes as he reaches for the folder and opens it, revealing another contract. But this one is less formal. Instead of legal jargon, it looks as if he typed it up himself, and it only consists of bullet points on a single sheet of paper.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Our new contract.”

“You think I’m going to sign a new contract with you?”

His eyes flash to mine. “Cut the goddamn sass for a second and hear me out.”

“That’s one way to win me back.” I roll my eyes.

“Do I need to bend you over this table just so you knock it off?”

My body heats up and I can feel my eyes widen from the thought.

He catches it.

The intrigue.

The yearning.

The need.

“Don’t,” I say, holding up my hand as he shifts. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Then hear me out and I won’t be forced to take extreme measures.”

God, it’s annoying how commanding he is.

Domineering.

Possessive.

But I also love it. What is wrong with me?

Some of the steel leaves his eyes when he says, “I’m sorry, Lottie, for a lot of things. I’m sorry that I blamed you for something I had no right blaming you for. I’m sorry for breaking our trust. I’m sorry for not leaning on you when I should have. And most importantly, I’m sorry that I hurt you. To see you cry, see you so upset, and know I’m the one causing that pain . . . it kills me.”

And just like that, with his soothing voice, the irritation drains from me as the tension lessens in my shoulders and . . . I listen.

“I quickly realized my mistake when you started to leave. My heart leapt in my throat when you got in your sister’s car. And when I saw you drive away, I knew you’d taken a huge piece of me with you. It gutted me seeing you leave, which made me realize I love you. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. And it hit me like a ton of bricks. I need you to be a part of my life, Lottie. I need you to be a permanent fixture. Which is why I came up with this contract.”

I don’t take it, but instead, I say, “Read it to me.”

Clearing his throat, he says, “My legal terms aren’t up to par, so don’t make fun of me.” That makes me inwardly smile. “‘This contract binds Huxley Cane and Lottie Gardner once terms are agreed to and signatures are present at the bottom.’”

“You’re right, your terminology is way off.”

“I was drawing a blank when writing this up. Bear with me.” He sets his shoulders back and reads some more. “‘The following requests must be followed by both parties. Request number one—after some careful thought and consideration, Lottie agrees to forgive Huxley for being a massive ass.’”

“I appreciate you using massive as a descriptor, because that’s what you were.”

“I was,” he agrees, and more tension eases.

“‘Request number two—after a solid make-up session, which will include whatever Lottie wants’”—I smirk at that—“‘Lottie will be required to permanently move in with Huxley, and into his bedroom, where he’s already made space in the closet for her clothes.’”

“My clothes or the personal items you picked out for me?” I ask.

“Whatever you want.”

“I prefer a mixture of both.”

“Done.” His facial expression lightens as he continues. “‘Request number three—Lottie drops all previous roles of fake fiancée and fake pregnant woman. Huxley realizes what a bad idea this was and has already cleared the air with Dave. He wants Lottie to live her best life now, free of any fake premise.’”

“Her best life?” I ask with a raised brow. He nods. “And things are cleared up with Dave? Really?”

“Yes, I spoke with him today. He wasn’t happy when I told him I’d fucked things up with you and told me I’d better get you back. I told him I intended to and that I already had dinner planned with you.”

“Dave is a smart man.” I push my hair over my shoulder, needing to busy my antsy hands.