Say You Still Love Me(108)

Ashley is sitting cross-legged on the couch, with balls of pink and white yarn scattered beside her, a knitting needle in each hand. Her eyes widen at the sight of Kyle. “Oh my God!” Casting her blanket aside, she leaps up and runs for him, throwing herself into his arms. “I can’t believe it!”

Kyle is grinning as they embrace. It’s an entirely different response than he got from Christa. “Good to see you, too, Ash.”

She pulls away, smoothing her blouse over her hips. “This is crazy, isn’t it? Us, all together again like this?”

He cocks his head, peering down at her with genuine affection. “How have you been?”

She shrugs. “Single and looking for a job. You know . . . living the dream.” They share an awkward laugh. “Oh, hey, Piper, those chairs Marcelle picked out arrived today. Wait ’til you see them.” Her emerald eyes light up. “She’s so good.”

Ashley and my interior decorator have hit it off, exchanging dozens of emails a day. Somehow the scope has expanded to include the patio, as well as my home office and the empty sitting area in my bedroom.

Her gaze shifts back to Kyle. “Piper mentioned that you still talk to Eric, right?”

“Uh . . . yeah. ” Kyle nods, ducking his head. “It’s been a while, though.”

She slides her hands into her pockets. “Say hi to him for me, next time, will ya?”

“I will. For sure,” he promises, his eyes solemn. “Do you want him doing that?” He points to something behind us.

I follow Kyle’s gaze to the couch, where Elton is batting at the white ball of yarn that Ashley’s using.

“Hey! No! Don’t you do that!” she scolds, charging for the living room. Elton takes off, skittering across the floor with the yarn, dragging her blanket behind him. “Bad kitty!”

Kyle frowns at Elton as the cat races past us, having abandoned his toy. “What’s wrong with his tail?”

“Anxiety.”

His dark eyebrows rise. “Cats get anxiety?”

“This one does.” I slip my hand into his once again, intent on not letting go for the rest of the night. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”




“And this is my bedroom.” The last room to show him in my condo, with the added surprise of two silver-blue wing chairs and a creamy shag rug now set next to the gas fireplace. Marcelle has exquisite taste.

Kyle hasn’t said much through the tour. Now he stops in the middle of the room, tossing his backpack as he takes it all in. His gaze drifts to the French doors. “Is that a different patio than the other one?”

“Yeah. But it’s just a small one.” I push my bedroom door closed.

“?‘Just a small one,’ she says,” he murmurs, strolling over to the other set of doors. He flicks the light switch on. “This is your closet?” His gaze takes in the custom cabinetry and shoe racks.

I sidle up to him to settle my hand on his abdomen. “Yes.”

He smirks at our reflection in the bathroom’s vanity mirror across the way. “Your closet is bigger than my bedroom.”

“No, it isn’t,” I say, trying to brush it off, though we both know it is.

He looks down at me with odd reluctance in his gaze.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m just . . . I know this all feels normal for you. But it’s not normal for me.”

“It’s just a condo! Ashley and Christa are fine living here.”

“They’re not dating you. Or whatever we are.”

I feel a pinch in my chest. “Is this an ego thing? Because, honestly? I deal with fragile male egos all day long, so please don’t tell me you’ve developed one now, too. I’m tired of it.” My voice is escalating, but I can’t help it.

“No, you just don’t understand.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “So enlighten me, then.”

He sighs. “Do you remember those shitty little cabins at Wawa?”

“How could I forget. They were hot and stuffy . . .”

“Mine smelled like dirty socks and dead things.”

I laugh.

Kyle bites his lip. “Sometimes I wish we could go back for a night.”

I reach for his arm, dragging my fingers over the tattoo of the cliff, and us. “So do I.”

His jaw tenses. “I already knew you were way out of my league, but there, it felt like we were on an even playing field. Here . . .” His gaze skates over my bedroom again. “I can’t even afford standing-room-only with an obstructed view in this stadium.”

“But I told you, I don’t care about”—How do I word this delicately?—“our financial differences.”

“Yeah, but I do. Because people are going to think I’m with you for your money. That’s something my shitty father and brothers would do. But I’m not them and I don’t ever want you to think that. I don’t want your money, Piper. I hate myself for ever taking it from your father.”

“Is that what this is really about?”

He bows his head.

“You didn’t have a choice. My father threatened you.”

“Yeah, I did have a choice, Piper. My options might not have been ideal, but I had a choice. I could have cut you out of my life to get your father off my back but not taken the money. I chose to take it and I’m ashamed of that.” He frowns. “And I know that’s going to come up again and again.”