Ladies Man (Manwhore #4)(63)
“I love you.” I try to hold his gaze with all the honesty and strength that I can muster. “Touch me now. Hold me now. Love me. Let yourself love me. I’m scared too.”
My voice breaks, and suddenly, as his stormier-than-ever blue eyes look at me, I feel more bare and naked than I have ever felt in my life.
And the next thing I know, I gasp in a rush.
“I can’t believe I just blurted that…Tahoe, I’m sorry, I… I have to go.”
And I turn around and shoulder my way to the front door, wishing that I indeed had wings that could fly me out of there.
*
My beautiful apartment creaks and croaks all night. Or maybe it’s just my conscience, or my mind, replaying every detail of the evening. Tahoe, Tahoe, Tahoe, Tahoe…
I don’t sleep one wink.
I miss him already. I feel like I lost him already. His incredibly honest friendship. His addictive teasing of me. His sporadic appearances in my life, which always lit me up and made me aware of how glum the second before he appeared actually was.
My makeup kit, my cell phone, everything of mine is still at Tahoe’s place. I was lucky I had given the extra key to my new apartment to one of my neighbors. I know I’ll have to get my stuff back soon, but luckily I’ve got a credit card tucked away and some cash on hand too. I feel weird without my cell phone—but I can’t find the courage to stop by and pick it up yet.
*
In the morning, I go see baby Kyle at the Saints’ place to try to clear my head. I’ve got so much on my mind and such a heavy sensation in the center of my chest that holding him makes me feel better. Holding a baby always does. I also simply craved seeing Rachel. She’s my best friend, and no marriage or babies will ever change that.
I tell her that I’ve broken up with Trent for good. I know both Wynn and Rachel have probably suspected that I’ve had strong feelings for Tahoe for a long time, though I’d never actually told them that I do.
I think they both knew that I was not ready to admit it, even to myself.
“And I told Tahoe I loved him yesterday,” I say quietly as I set the sleeping little baby back into his crib.
Rachel’s eyes widen in surprise.
“I didn’t say it so that he would say it back or anything, but I felt like a hypocrite, being friends and yet not being able to just tell him how I feel. Now…I don’t know if I regret it.”
Rachel heads across the baby’s room—beautifully decorated with a jungle painted on his wall and a plush giraffe as tall as I am—and she grabs the Kleenex on top of his changing table.
“No, silly, don’t. I’m not going to cry.” I wave it off, but only because I refuse to have the option of using them. “I didn’t go to work,” I add. “I asked Martha for a few days. I want to think things through. After what I said, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I don’t want to lose his friendship.”
“Saint went to see him this morning.”
“Oh. Saint went to see Tahoe?”
Rachel nods. “He called him at two a.m. saying he needed to talk.” When I say nothing, she shrugs. “I’m not sure that they’ll talk about anything, really. When guys are bummed, sometimes they want to sit and drink in silence and just have a buddy nearby.”
“I guess,” I say.
“You know what? I think you need to just be with yourself while you sort out things in your head, Gina. You’ve been so busy with work, and Trent was another distraction from maybe figuring out what it is you really want—and what you want to do about it. Please, if you don’t take anything else from me ever again, please just accept going to our house in the Hamptons, Gina. I’ll arrange transportation—just go clear your head.”
And so I take her advice, and that afternoon, I accept her offer to fly me up to the Hamptons for a weekend.
CHECKED
The following morning I decide to sit down on the window bench and read Gone Girl with a cup of hot coffee by my side. I had French toast for breakfast and am enjoying this time on my own to regroup and think about how to maybe, slowly, try to rebuild my friendship with Tahoe.
I’ve wondered endlessly whether or not I did the right thing in telling him I love him. I feel like the world opened up and swallowed me, but I also feel relief that I finally came clean, even if what I said was not what he wanted to hear.
I’m still thinking of the look on his handsome face when the words left me, the shock and almost concern (for me, I’m sure it was for me). I can’t concentrate on the book on my lap. I’ve been staring at it for a while when I hear the sound of tires and a rumbling car motor.
I peer out the window and watch a tall man emerge from a silver Audi rental.
He’s wearing black jeans and a black long-sleeved crewneck. It’s hard to breathe when the man walking to the front door is the one I wanted to get away from this weekend.
A familiar triple knock startles me.
I force myself to put the book down, walk to the door, inhale deeply, and open it.
He fills the space outside like he is a god and like he is at the center of everything. Our eyes lock, and I suddenly realize I’m makeup-less, in my pajamas, my heart flipping helplessly at the sight of him.
I can’t think when he looks at me, with wounded blue eyes and a thoughtful frown.