Page 93 of Get A Fix

“What do you mean?”

“I mean with you. I should have handled things better with you and your desire for more. You just wanted to be a bigger part of my life, and I reacted poorly.”

“As I think back on it now,” I said softly, “maybe that’s all you could do.”

“So you’re saying what?” His temper flared, and his voice sharpened to a knife. “I’m just not capable of⁠—”

“No. I’m saying that at that time, and perhaps even now, dating men doesn’t work for you. You’re fortunate to have found such a wonderful partner in Sienna. She’s really lovely, other than her aversion to small, sticky children.”

His breath caught.

I grinned at him. “C’mon, she sounded like she was being attacked by ninjas.”

His slow smile was a surprise. “In her defense, the dress was white.”

“Those were my very same thoughts last night,” I told him.

As he held my gaze, his smile fell away.

“Are we good?” I asked him.

He took a step closer. “I thought you’d be easy to replace.”

It was a horrible thing to say, but no good could come of me defending myself, or even responding to his comment.

“See, I was certain I stuck around because it was easy, because you didn’t ask much of me, and when we were alone together, I was content.”

I grimaced.

“No? Is content not a good word?”

I shook my head. “Content is comfortable, complacent, convenient, which…is exactly what our thing was. Nothing was happening, there was no movement with us, no growth, no change. And that’s on me. I was stupid to let it go on, but unlike you, who thought it was easy, I thought I could make you fall in love with me. I thought I felt enough for you that I could will it into being.”

“Will what into being?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

“The relationship I wanted,” I said with a sigh. “You know, the guy, my guy, the one I’d take to meet my parents, who would babysit my nieces and nephews with me, who would meet my friends and make plans for a future. I thought at any second, you’d look at me and think, how lucky am I?”

He huffed out a breath. “Well, I’m sorry I disa⁠—”

“Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t meant to be. More importantly, it wasn’t supposed to be. I get it now. You’re not my guy, and I’m certainly not yours.”

His brows furrowed, and he took another step forward, which would have been too close, too intimate, so I took one back.

“You still smell like your soap and that oil you put all over your⁠—”

“Which you hated,” I reminded him, “along with this sweater and my jeans and⁠—”

“Do you—does a huge movie star like my uncle like bottoming for you?”

It was like being punched in the stomach, and that fast, I was furious. He saw his mistake when my eyes flicked to his.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Really.”

I nodded. “I think we’re done, aren’t we? There can’t be anything left to say.”

He sucked in a breath. “You were not, are not, easy to replace.”

“Okay,” I said, and turned away.