Until April (Until Her/Him #10)(28)

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whisper-hiss, hearing Harris shut his door behind me.

“April.” Cohen gives me the smile that has melted a million panties and probably broken hundreds of hearts.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, and he looks between me and the house like it should be obvious. “Right, then you need to find a different agent.”

“I want you,” he says easily, coming toward me, looking exactly like what he is—a rock star. Piercing blue eyes, dark shaggy hair, and thick scuff along his jaw, wearing his ripped jeans with his worn-out shirt that is probably not, just bought at some high-end store and cost hundreds of dollars if not more. “I couldn’t get ahold of you any other way, and we need to talk.”

“No, thank you.” I turn to look at Harris. “We’re leaving.” I open my door, but before I can get into my car, Cohen is there, wrapping his hand around my bicep and stopping me.

“Five minutes, please.”

I tip my head back, and a sense of déjà vu washes over me as I meet his gaze. How many times did I give in to the plea in his tone and expression? How many times did I say okay and let him convince me that things would change? How many times were things between us good—until they weren’t anymore?

Too many. Way too many is the answer to all those questions.

“Let me go,” I hiss, when I really want to shout. The only thing keeping me from doing exactly that is the fact that Harris is here, and I don’t want to scare him.

“Please.” He releases me and raises his hand up between us. “I just want to talk.”

I want to say no. I really do. But I don’t want this to continue to happen. I don’t want to worry that he’s going to show up every time I have an appointment with a new client.

I turn to look at Harris over the roof of the car. “I’m going to talk to him for a minute. While I do that, do you want to find somewhere to make reservations for dinner tonight?”

“Are you going to be o-okay with him?” he asks as he looks between Cohen and me, obviously feeling the tension, and my face softens.

“I’ll be okay, and I won’t be more than a couple of minutes,” I say, and he nods and opens his door. When he’s inside, I step away from the car and cross my arms over my chest as I turn to face Cohen. “I have stuff to do today, so please make this quick.”

“You’re still the only women I know who’s even more beautiful when she’s pissed,” he says quietly, his eyes roaming over my face like he’s trying to memorize it. “I’ve missed you, so fucking much. I….” He looks away for a moment, then runs his fingers through his hair. “Shit, I had a whole speech rehearsed for this moment, but now I’m at a loss for words.”

He clears his throat, and I raise a brow.

“It took me a long time to realize how badly I fucked up by letting you go, letting you walk away. I should have fought for you, for us, but I just couldn’t see past the band and my music. I’m sorry I hurt you. I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don’t deserve it, but I want another shot. I want the chance to prove to you that I’ve changed.”

“Thank you for the apology, but no.” I uncross my arms. “And if you really are sorry, you won’t talk about me during anymore interviews or do this ever again.”

“No.” He zeroes in on that word, looking confused, probably because no one tells him no anymore. I’m sure he’s surrounded with people who jump when he says to do so. Only ever asking “how high?” “Is it the guy you’re seeing? The one Brock saw you leave The Drop with? The same one Vanessa saw you out at dinner with?”

“It has nothing to do with Maxim.” And that’s the truth, because even if Maxim wasn’t in the picture, I would not go backward. The chapter of my life that included Cohen has ended.

“Maxim.” He spits out his name, his lip curling.

“We’re done here.” I sigh, heading for my car.

“I’m not going to give up,” he calls out when I open my door. “That’s what you want me to say, right, that I’m not going to give up?”

I meet his gaze and shake my head. “This isn’t some weird mind-fuck, Cohen. I don’t want you to try to prove anything to me. I want you to leave me alone and to move on, because I have.” The words come out with ease, and I realize it’s the truth. Somehow without even realizing it was happening, I moved on, or maybe I had a long time ago but never realized it. “What we had ended a long time ago. Find someone who makes you happy, and put some effort into them.”

I slide into my seat, shut the door, start the engine, then slip on my seatbelt. I don’t even bother looking in his direction as I back out and then a moment later pull out onto the main road.

“W-ho was that guy?” Harris asks, and I glance over at him, finding his head turned so he can look out the back windshield.

“My ex.”

“So he didn’t want to see the house?” he asks, sounding deflated.

“No.” I laugh. “He didn’t want to see the house.” Or I don’t think he did.

“Darn, I was hoping I could tell Molly we were going on vacation.”

“The day is still young, and that wasn’t the only appointment we have on the schedule.”