The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob(74)

I can’t help it.

And he’s on his feet, instantly, crossing the room completely naked to get to me where I’m hovering in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing.”

He reaches for me, and I shrink back.

I don’t want to.

I don’t.

I want to melt into his arms and have him tell me he’ll cancel every show next year and move into my dinky little apartment over the bookstore and play with my kids every day, and that isn’t reality.

My eyes squeeze shut on their own. It’s instinct to get away from the searing hurt crossing his face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It’s not you. It’s me. It’s all me.”

“You’re breaking up with me.”

Breaking up. Not ending this. Breaking up. Like we’re a real couple. Like he thinks we’re a real couple, instead of two strangers who bumped into each other randomly and agreed to have a secret fling to burn off some steam.

“It’s not you.” I force myself to open my eyes and look at him. “You’re utterly perfect. You let my daughters paint your fingernails and you do dishes and you text me the funniest gifs ever, and that’s basically my definition of the perfect man.”

“But?” The hurt the man can pack into that one syllable almost breaks me.

No, not almost.

All the way. I can’t blink the tears back in, and my nose is starting to run too, and that most likely means it’s turning the color of a maraschino cherry. “But I’m falling in love with you, and we don’t have a future, and so I need to go. Now. My kids need me as together as I ever am. I need me as together as I ever am. I can’t go back to being the woman I was when I was with Daniel. I can’t. So I have to go. Thank you. For everything. These past few weeks have meant more to me than you’ll ever know, and not because you’re some fancy famous trophy, but because you’re so very real, and kind, and because you made me feel things I never thought I’d be able to feel again. You’re a good man, Levi Wilson. The very best. And I have to go.”

I’m sobbing so hard I can barely understand myself as I duck away from his intense, tight-jawed gaze and dart through the living room to the foyer.

Out in the hall, I realize I have to wait for the elevator. And even a fancy, semi-private elevator that only goes to the top four floors of the building at a quick pace takes time.

But the door to Levi’s apartment doesn’t open behind me.

When I step off the elevator in the parking garage, his security guy doesn’t blink at me in my snotty-faced, teary-eyed, rat-nest hair glory.

And when I pull my phone out of my purse to make sure I didn’t miss any calls from Portia, there aren’t any messages from Levi either.

Of course there aren’t.

I’m the basket case who just broke up with him because I love him.

Who’d message that?

I drive home, shower quickly, and take time to put on makeup, staring myself in the eye and ordering myself to keep it together until I’m no longer afraid of having a meltdown in front of my kids.

And then I head out to Portia’s house.

I miss my babies.

I need my best friend.

And today, I’m going to be thankful. For everything.

Except the one message that dings through just as I’m pulling up to their cozy brick house.

Can we still be friends?

I breathe through the pain, and three minutes later, Portia’s shoving me into her bedroom and locking the door. “Oh, honey, you have it bad. Here. Have a biscuit. It’ll settle your belly.”

“Do you have anything to settle my heart?”

She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. “Tell me I don’t have to kick his ass.”

“I broke up with him.”

“Oh, honey.”

“He travels—”

“I know. Shh. I know.”

“Was I wrong?”

I hold my breath, because if Portia sees a way that I was wrong, I’ll go crawling back on my knees and beg him to forgive me.

But she’s shaking her head. “He was the right guy at the wrong time. You don’t need another Daniel. Your babies don’t need another Daniel. You need—no, you deserve a man who’ll be there. A partner. Not one more person’s schedule to work around. You overbook yourself enough as it is.”

“He did my dishes.”

“A man’ll do anything a few times. Doesn’t mean he’ll still do them two years from now.”

“Griff does.”

“Griff knows which side his bread’s buttered on.”

I laugh for the first time all morning, and my abs protest.

Portia pulls back and gives me a look. “Was it worth it?”

“It does hurt a little to walk,” I whisper.

She shakes her head. “At least you’ll have that memory.”

“I don’t think I’m ever having sex again.”

“Then tell him you can be friends, and set a date to seduce him again in another ten years when Zoe’s out of the house and Hudson needs you to have a sugar daddy for bail money.”

I gasp and feel my eyeballs nearly drop out of my head. “Oh my god, are you serious?”

Portia grins. “Maybe ten percent? That boy makes mine look like angels.”