Page 37 of The Girlfriend Clause
Dammit. I’d never trained for something like this. I needed time to think. Make a plan.
“Andrea, I’ve got to go.”
“Oh.” She sat up, leaning back on her elbows. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine. I just—have to go.”
“Okay,” she said slowly.
I pushed the covers back and stood.
Where were my pants… my socks? I grabbed my phone, then my wallet.
There was a shoe—good.
Where the fuck was the otherone?
Bollocks to it. I was leaving.
“I’ll call you,” I said, then added a stiff smile as an afterthought.
“But—”
It was hard to see her face, but her voice told me everything I needed to know. I had fucked this up beyond all recognition.
“Thanks, Andrea. I’ll be in touch.”
I strode out of the flat like hesitation would get me hit.
Out on the street, cold air hit my face. I sucked it in while I fished my phone out to book a cab.
Come on. Comeon.
What the fuck had I been thinking? Taking a semi-traumatized woman home to her flat and sleeping with her, then cozying up over pillow talk as if we werelovers? Not my typical MO atall.
That was where this had all gone wrong.
I knew better than that.
Strictly arm’s length. Simple. For everyone.
Why the fuck hadn’t I stuck to my own rules?
Pickup locationconfirmed.
I glanced back up at her window before I could stop myself. Dammit. Hooking up with Andrea had been… phenomenal. But now…
This was the kind of cock-up that followed you.
And I couldn’t call her. I hadn’t got her number. Fuck. Could I pull it from HR? No. Christ. Absolutelynot.
Headlights flared as a car pulled in and stopped.
“Evening,” the driver said.
I opened the door and got in.
He glanced at my feet, then back to the road.
