Page 178 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

Wait until you’re locked inside your apartment.

He has a tattoo that reminded him of our summer together all those years ago.

That’s…mindboggling.

Guilt lands on top of everything else I’m feeling right now as steam billows from the kettle beside me.

I never forgot that summer. I also never forgot him. I just…I never thought I’d see him again. And while it hurt at the time, over the years, I figured that if it were meant to be, we’d collide again—I just didn’t actually expect it to happen. Or for it to turn out to be a man who was right in front of my eyes.

How didn’t I realize?

My head continues spinning as I pour the water into the waiting mug. I place the kettle down, and I’m about to turn around to return to my client when the door opens.

Bea stands there with a takeout coffee in her hand.

“Rett been ordering you treats again?” I tease, trying to keep the pain out of my voice.

As much as I wanted to put on a brave face this morning and pretend everything was fine, the second I looked at Bea, she knew.

I tried to stop her, but she instantly pulled me into her arms. I broke down on her shoulder before she promised me she would go after Calvin and cause him a world of pain for hurting me.

I appreciated the gesture, but I think he’s already dealing with enough right now. He doesn’t need a pissed-off pregnant woman on his case as well.

“Not Everett,” she says, walking closer and holding the coffee cup out. “Calvin.”

I stare at the takeout cup as if it’s personally offended me.

“Sienna?” Bea questions, her brow furrowed. “I know we haven’t had time to fully dissect what’s happened.” That’s an understatement. Thanks to my lack of sleep, I rocked up at work with two minutes to spare, and we’ve both had back-to-back clients since. “But surely you’re not going to turn down coffee? It’s your favorite.”

Goddamn it.

Hesitantly, I reach out and take it. The second I bring it to my nose and inhale, I discover she’s right. It is my favorite.

Although, I’m not surprised—Calvin always listened.

If only he were as good at talking, we might not have ended up in this mess.

“Things can’t be fixed with coffee,” I snap, annoyed at his thoughtfulness.

Does he suspect that I was up all night running over every second of our time together? Was he doing the same?

Ugh. I hate this.

“I know that. But it might help make you feel a little better,” Bea says softly.

Knowing she’s right, I take a sip.

“Are we heading to your place or mine after work to hash all of this out?” she asks before I get to the door.

I think about being at my place and potentially hearing him above me.

“Yours,” I practically cry.

“Okay. We’ll order takeout, and I’ve already got ice cream in the fridge. You want alcohol?”

I hesitate. I should say no—she’s pregnant. It would be rude to drink when she can’t.

“I’ll get you alcohol,” she answers for me.