End of Story(38)

“It felt impromptu,” I said. “Not to be harsh.”

He dropped his hands and looked up at me with extreme consternation. As if I were dancing on his last damn nerve. The man certainly knew how to return the favor. With a shake of his head, he pulled out his cell to fire off a text. “We should get Tore to talk to Austin and see what’s up about the guitar.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

His gaze was serious. “Tore’s known Austin since they were kids. I trust my brother. I promise you he will only help. Please let us do this for you.”

“Okay,” I said. “But tell him to be subtle. I don’t want Austin to feel like he’s being pressured. We do not want to exacerbate the situation.”

A nod from Lars as his thumbs moved across the screen.

“Guess if I have to take out a small loan it won’t be the end of the world. It’ll set me back for a while, but hey...if I can handle college fees I can certainly handle this.” I rubbed my hands against the sides of my wide-legged cropped jeans. “And my reputation is solid. My clients know and trust me. I mean, this is all just a somewhat amusing horrible thing that happened. Not the end of the world.”

“That’s right. Everything is going to be okay.” His phone chimed and he read the text. “Tore said he and Cleo will stop by Austin’s show tonight. And they’ll be subtle. But he’s known the guy since he was fourteen and he really doesn’t think you’re in any trouble.”

“Either way, I have a backup plan now. I feel better.” And if I just kept saying it, it would definitely come true.

“Good.” His brows wrinkled. “Susie—”

“You kissed me.”

“I know.”

“Guess we should talk about that.”

He dropped his head. “Fuck.”

I got comfortable in the wingback chair opposite him. Because odds were, his retreat from this situation would be legendary. The backpedaling of the century. Such shame. Much regret. I definitely needed a front row seat for the show.

But then he looked up at me and said, “We’re inevitable.”

“We’re what?”

“You and me, we’re inevitable.” His hands were held open and his expression was resigned. There was no lie in those blue eyes. Just acceptance. Like he didn’t love the idea, but there was no escaping it. Which was actually less of a compliment than you’d think. The big idiot.

“Is this about the divorce certificate?” I asked.

“It’s about all of it.”

“Please explain.”

“I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me. Obviously, you enjoy my company or we wouldn’t keep winding up having these truly baffling conversations. And I honestly can’t wait to hear what the hell is going to come out of your mouth next.”

I just blinked.

“We’ve both had multiple opportunities to walk away from this and neither of us have. We’re inevitable.”

“Yes,” I said. “You keep saying that. But what does it mean exactly when those words come out of your mouth?”

“I even tried to put some distance between us by dating other women.”

I gasped. “You said that wasn’t what you were doing.”

“I lied.”

“Well, of course. I knew it was bullshit. I didn’t realize you did too. That’s a level of awareness I don’t often ascribe to the male species,” I said. “It’s just...this is really not the direction I thought you’d take.”

“Fighting it hasn’t worked. Staying away didn’t help either. And neither of us wants to do that long-term anyway.” He nodded to himself. “We’re just going to have to date.”

“Um, date?”

“Yeah.”

My laughter was brittle. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No. No, you don’t. In fact, I don’t think you’re quite seeing this situation clearly. Do you really want to break the bro code and have to tell your bestie that you and I are...doing something vaguely romantic and sometimes sexual together?”

He sat back in the chair with his ankle propped on his knee. Totally at ease for some damn reason. “I think we’re past worrying about that, don’t you?”

“He’s not going to like it.”

“He’ll get used to it.”

“And I don’t want to be around him. Ever.”

“I understand,” he said in a gentle tone. One that kind of killed me. “Susie, is this your not-so-subtle way of telling me you don’t want to date me?”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Can I ask why not?”

“You’d get tired of me. What comes out of my mouth would cease to be charming. Trust me. Been there, done that. And let’s be realistic. We can’t even maintain a friendship for more than a few days at a time without something going wrong. With everything that’s already happened this year I just... I can’t.” I picked at the seam of my jeans and avoided eye contact. “I know the mystery divorce certificate makes things weird, but I still maintain that we’re better off as we are.”