Page 9 of The Catch

It's okay. I'm only acknowledging it as a fact. It's an obvious, irrefutable statement. I've always known Saint is extremely attractive, with his hair and the way he styles it pushed back, giving him the just-out-of-the-shower look, no matter the time of the day. His light brown skin is tan from working outside so often, in a sun-kissed way that is truly alluring. He's tall and full of thick, long muscles, which he tends to dress in bold clothes. It doesn't end there. His face is gorgeous. The lines of it reflect the long history of mixing genetics in Latin America. His dimples are delicious. His smile is always playful. It's no surprise he has his own big fan club.

"I was awake," I respond. My tone is casual. Friendly. "I was doomscrolling."

I add airquotes to the last word.

"Mhh." He arches an eyebrow. "Were you watching the video from this morning? Evie showed it to me."

I cringe. "You saw that?"

"It was epic. That righteous fury on your face— you really honored your last name, Amelia Guerrero."

I purse my lips not to show a full smile. It's wrong to be proud of that description. And the way he pronounced my name in perfect Spanish and with a Colombian accent…

"You probably want an explanation," I say instead, "before I ask to stay with you for a bit."

He leans on the stone surface of the island and studies me, arms crossed. "It would satiate a question or two, but you don't have to explain or ask to stay. I'm already saying yes. And I'll be pissed at Aidan regardless. I don't need to know what he did to enlist my team and go give him a bit of a fright."

"That's… very generous. But if I'm to invade your home for some time, I should at least explain why."

I hate that I have to ask Saint for refuge. The idea that I might be a burden to him weighs me down with guilt. Someone who has made the right choices would have their life together, and wouldn't need rescuing. Now I'm asking my brother's friend to give me shelter, like he has any responsibility over me.

He gives me a long, serious look. I hold his gaze. He's the first to pull away. With a gentle nod— like he's made a decision— he sighs and turns to the oven.

After a quick glance at the timer, he puts his attention on the pot on the stove. "What did Aidan do?"

"How do you know it was him? I could have gone ballistic on him for no reason."

"Doubtful." His dimples are nowhere to be seen, but he smirks. "I don't really know him, but I knowyouenough to know you wouldn't waste good food on someone, unless they did something to earn it."

His response would have gotten a grin from me any other day, because it's true, and I like that he knows this. Today, it gets a weak smile.

I'm putting on a brave face but, inside, my foundation is still cracked and sinkholes have appeared all around. Aidan and I were so good, I thought. We made so much sense. He was who I had been looking for. So why did he cheat?

No answer makes itself known. Confusion and pain is all I find when I look for the response. I have to tread carefully, or I'll fall into one of those holes and who knows what would happen next. All I can afford is to recoup, and figure out how to prevent the same thing from happening in the future. One day, when I'm ready to try again.

Saint doesn't add more and waits for my reply. I take a deep breath before admitting the truth. Somehow, I feel like I'm revealing something shameful about myself. How embarrassing, that I couldn't make things work with Aidan. Worse, that it ended the way it did.

My breath comes out shaky.

"I caught him with someone this morning," I say. "He was cheating on me. But my little rage show cost me the largest client I had."

"Ouch." His nose wrinkles. "Asshole."

"And since I lived with him while we shopped for a place of our own, I had nowhere to go."

"Incorrect." He lifts an eyebrow. "You have this place."

He checks the timer and the pot again, before taking a plate with cheese out of the fridge and placing it near me.

I rub my lips. "I appreciate you've always been around, no matter how busy you are. But you didn't sign up for a roommate. I don't want to get in the way of your life."

"I'm not concerned about that."

"Please, no need to pretend— I saw someone leave this morning as I came in— I'm pretty sure youinvitepeopleover often."

He doesn't say anything, but grabs two mugs and two spoons, and fills them up with what appears to be hot chocolate from the pot.

"Never mind that," he finally says. "I'm glad you don't have to worry about a place to stay. You can call this your home for as long as you need."