You Promised Me Forever (Forever Yours #1)(26)

“She’s very nice,” I agree. “She didn’t believe me when I told her I broke up with you.”

“Why not?” He veers right and I follow after him.

“Most people don’t believe me when I tell them.” He appears surprised and I shrug. “They all think you’re the one who dumped me.”

“Yeah. Not the case though, right?” He actually chuckles.

“I heard you tell her I broke your heart.” When he glances over at me, I try my best to look mad. Because I am, damn it. He shouldn’t admit those kinds of things out loud, to other people, even if it is the truth. “Why would you say that?”

He shrugs those impossibly broad shoulders of his. “It’s the truth.”

I want to hit him. I also want to hug him. The conflicting emotions swirling within me battle it out, my brain fully engaged in the struggle. What do I say to that, how does he expect me to respond? He’s acting like it’s no big deal now, so maybe I should do the same.

“There’s my car,” he says, and we both come to a stop, my mouth hanging open.

He’s driving a Range Rover. Still. He had one in high school, and we had many moments in that car. Most of them awesome teenage experiences, if you know what I mean.

The new one is silver, and it’s gorgeous. I turn to look at him and find he’s already watching me, the first real smile on his face since we’ve started talking again.

Seeing him look so happy steals my breath, and I just stare at him for a long moment, wallowing in the beauty that is Jordan Tuttle’s face.

“A Range Rover, huh?” I finally ask, my voice teasing.

He shrugs again, hits the keyless remote, and the car lights flash, the doors unlocking. “Old habits die hard.”

“Oh yeah?” What’s he saying? Am I an old habit he can’t kick?

“Yeah.” He makes his way to the passenger side and opens the door for me so I can slip inside. “Once I find something I like, I tend to stick with it. Not like some people I know.”

My mouth falls open once again, my brain scrambling.

Really. Really? Did he just say that?

Jordan shuts the door firmly before I can manage a reply.





Amanda lives in a shit hole.

It’s a three-story apartment building with a parking garage on the bottom floor, and I’m guessing it was built in the 1960s. Don’t think it’s been remodeled since then either. The windows face the extremely busy street, and it doesn’t look safe. Not by a long shot.

Yet she’s babbling on like it’s the best option ever. Almost feels like she’s making excuses to me for living there.

“It’s so close to everything, including the bus stop I take to work.” She sends me a relieved smile. “So glad you picked me up, though. It would’ve sucked to ride the bus home with the flowers. Though I guess I could’ve left them at work.”

I say nothing. My brain is too busy trying to comprehend the fact that she takes the bus every day to and from work. That she lives in this shitty apartment complex we’re about to park in front of. That she seems perfectly happy with her life.

If she would’ve stuck with me, I could’ve given her so much more.

So much fucking more.

“Just pull in right there,” she instructs, and I park on the street, putting the SUV in park and killing the engine. I glance around, my gaze going to the side mirror as I contemplate getting out of the car when the light finally turns red. There is too much traffic coming at me to make a safe exit.

“How long have you lived here?”

When I don’t move to get out of the car, she drops her hand from the door handle. “About a year.”

“You like it?” I don’t see how she could.

“I like that I have my own place versus having a roommate, like I did at my other place.” She shrugs. “It’s kind of old, but it works.”

It’s awful, but I refrain from saying anything insulting. I don’t want to make her mad. Feels like we’re walking a fine line together already. Didn’t help that I say stupid shit without thinking.

Amanda’s right—I should’ve never told her friend that she broke my heart, but the words came out without thought. Just the automatic truth. Though maybe she needs to hear it…especially since we haven’t really talked about it.

Once the traffic lightens up, I get out of my car, and Amanda does the same. I grab the flower arrangement from the back seat and follow her to the building and then up the stairs, relieved that none of the apartments are on the ground floor. At least that’s semi-safe—a creeper has to climb up to get through the window.

But I’m constantly looking around as we head to her apartment, noting the dark corners, the scummy guy who leaves his door open so I can see inside his trashed place. She walks faster when we pass by his, and I practically want to growl my disapproval.

She finally comes to a stop in front of apartment number forty-two and whips out a set of keys, unlocking two locks before the door swings open. I follow her inside, coming to a stop in the center of the room when I realize this is it. This is the entirety of her home.

“You live in a studio?” My tone is accusatory and I immediately regret saying it like that, but come the fuck on.

“Well, yeah.” She shuts and locks the door, then throws her arms up in the air. “But it’s all mine.”