Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(46)

My head felt light, as if at any moment I’d pass out again. It was definitely the Nyquil.

“This isn’t me telling you these things because I’m drugged,” I said. “I’m not him.” Not that I knew what he was like when he was drugged, but I felt the need to add that. “I liked you, Nicole. I really did.”

“Before?” she asked in a low voice. I nodded. Before, during, after. I really f*cking liked her.

“But your dad was my boss, and I couldn’t . . .” I yawned. “I couldn’t take that chance.”

“I know. Priorities,” she said and smiled.

She didn’t seem upset about the admission. I didn’t really expect her to be. Nicole never saw me as her long-lost lover. She’d been whole before I found her at the club, and whole after I left her at the office.

“I had no idea you wanted to get married,” I said, yawning again.

“You wouldn’t have settled down even if you had known,” she replied, shrugging.

“It had nothing to do with you. That was all me,” I said. She sighed.

“That was a long time ago. A lot has happened since.” She stood from her seat and leaned down to place her hand on my forehead. I closed my eyes at the feel of it, tried to inhale the fresh scent she carried with her. “Do you just want to go to sleep then? Not shower? You should still drink this.”

She brought the cup to my lips and I took a sip, cringing as the cold liquid hit my sore throat. When I was finished, she stepped away and put the cup down.

“I should probably—” she started, and I realized, to my horror, that she may be about to leave me here by myself, and I really wanted her to stay. I wasn’t sure which one of those things was worse.

“Stay,” I said. “Stay with me.”

She let out a sigh and sat down beside me, and without a second thought, I put my head on her lap. She started running her fingers through my hair so softly, sleep didn’t stand a chance.

“I have some designs to work on,” she said. “Do you mind if I get my sketch book and do that here?”

“Please do. I want to see them,” I said, looking into her eyes. She nodded and gave me a small smile as she continued to touch my hair. “I always liked watching you sketch.” That was the last thing I remember saying before I fell asleep.





VICTOR AND I had been talking on the phone for the past few days. Ever since I left his house after taking him soup, he’d been calling me. It was mostly talk about the mediation and him apologizing for canceling our meeting, which led to him thanking me profusely for bringing him soup. Bringing him soup, which I wasn’t sure was key word for a new page we turned or just literally bringing soup. It felt like a new page to me, though. With the late-night calls and the movie talk, and bowling challenges, and promises of surfing lessons, it felt like maybe we were becoming something. Something else. Something I wasn’t sure either of us knew or wanted to label. But all of that was gathered in just a few days, and I’d married a man I barely knew within just a few weeks once before and look at how that turned out. The reminder left a bitter taste in my mouth. I washed it down with the cup of coffee in my hand, gulping it until it was all gone.

Victor called me at six thirty in the morning to wake me up and make sure I’d be ready on time. The meeting was scheduled for eleven thirty. Who the hell calls somebody at six thirty in the morning? Ever since the girl from the ice cream shop ended up on the tabloids with a tell-all about Gabe and her, Victor had been on edge, trying to figure out how we could really stick it to him during the mediation. My dad had been livid. Chrissy and Talon were furious. “My wild night with Gabriel Lane” was the title on the tabloids. It was definitely catchy, and if I was being completely honest with myself, I didn’t care anymore. I was just . . . done.

Victor wanted to meet with me beforehand just in case I had any questions. I told him I didn’t. He insisted I had to as way of apology for the missed meeting and I agreed just so I could get him off the phone. At nine thirty there was loud knock on my door. Thankfully, I’d gotten dressed already and had just finished drying my hair. I walked downstairs and opened the door just as he was putting his hand up to knock again.

“You have absolutely no patience,” I said, gawking at him. He was dressed in a dark navy suit today, looking way too good to be my off-limits attorney. He gave me a quick, but thorough, once-over. I felt his gaze to the tips of my toes.

“You’re not ready.” He brushed past me and walked inside.

“I just need my shoes.”

I closed the door and locked it, turning around to find him looking up at the ceiling with his eyes closed and his hands in his pockets.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did you know there were photographers outside?” he asked, walking toward my kitchen.

“No.” I paused, looking out the open windows in the front of the house. “Right now?”

“I was bombarded with flashing cameras on the walk from my car.”

I rounded the counter and set up the coffee machine again before facing him, butt against the counter arms crossed. “Is that why you stormed in here like you were being chased by a White Walker?”

“A white what?”

“From Game of Thrones, you know?” I paused. “Didn’t we talk about this last night?”