“I know this situation is a little fucked. Trust me, I get that. If there’s anything I can do, anything else you need, please tell me.”
I nodded. Despite Nolan’s flaws—like having one too many women in his life—I respected him. He was protective, dependable, and trustworthy. And a whole slew of other qualities I really needed in my life right now. My stupid heart told me to just hang on. That maybe, just maybe, he would be mine when he got over his fear of commitment and losing someone he cared for.
“There’s something else you need to know,” he said, his tone soft and low.
Oh Christ. What now?
“What’s that?”
Stroking my cheek with his calloused thumb, he leaned closer. “I’ve never kissed Daniella.”
My breathing stopped for a moment. “Ever?”
“Never,” he confirmed.
Knowing that intimacy was something he’d shared only with me caused a little spark of hope to flare in my chest.
Then Nolan pulled me close, bringing my mouth to his. He kissed me slowly, softly, without any rush. It was tender, and sweet, and loving. And it made my head spin with confusion.
This entire situation was the definition of a clusterfuck.
Chapter Fifteen
Nolan
Early the next morning, I was cooking breakfast when Daniella wandered out in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes. Usually she came out of her room fully dressed, if she had to be somewhere soon, or wearing her lounging-around sweatpants. She must be feeling crappy today.
Damn it, that was almost certainly my fault. But what else could I have done? Last night would have been a disaster no matter what.
“You get my note?” I asked.
Sutton snuffled the floor around me, smearing his cold, wet nose on my bare feet. I accidentally-on-purpose dropped a chunk of hash browns for him. He gulped it down in a blink.
Daniella sat down at the dining table, eyeing the full pan in my hand. “Yep.”
Damn, this was awkward. Knowing I needed to forge ahead, I served up two heaping plates and two mugs of coffee, then sat across from her. Sutton lay down on my foot? poised to snatch up any more scraps.
“Listen,” I began, not really knowing how to end. “Last night was . . .”
Daniella stared down into her mug, stirring cream into her coffee. “You weren’t into it.”
Automatically, I shook my head, but my denial caught in my throat. I’d never once lied to her, and I wasn’t about to start now.
“It wasn’t just that. Things have been . . . weird lately. And then last night, finding you in your room like that . . .” I had to drag every word out of my throat.
Fuck.
Her hazel eyes met mine as she waited for me to continue, waited to understand what could possibly be going on with me that I didn’t want to fuck a primed, ready, and willing woman.
I cleared my throat. “Lacey ended up stopping by, and she saw us from the doorway.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
The apology felt insincere, but then again, I hadn’t planned on last night’s scene with Daniella. The door being unlocked wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Or maybe I wasn’t ready to face the fact that the two women in my life were colliding in a way I’d never planned on.
So I left it at that. I couldn’t understand my own feelings, let alone explain this crisis to anyone else. I just stuffed a forkful of scrambled eggs into my mouth. I could hear Sutton wheezing slightly in the silence.
Daniella poured a ribbon of ketchup over her hash browns, watching the red dribble with exaggerated care, keeping her gaze downcast. “Yeah, last night I could tell . . . you weren’t just not into the scene. You weren’t into me.”
Ouch. I almost winced. Not “you weren’t into the scene,” but “you weren’t into me.” And no soothing noises like “but it’s okay, I understand” to soften the blow.
We’d always been pretty blunt with each other, so I knew she wasn’t trying to guilt-trip me, just stating the facts. I usually found her straightforwardness refreshing. And it would be shitty to expect Daniella to reassure me about hurting her feelings, anyway.
But her words couldn’t help but sting. It was hard not to notice the chill in the air, the too-long pauses, the stiff, rehearsed way she sipped her coffee. As if our whole conversation was a bad movie.
“Yeah,” I finally admitted. “I wasn’t. Things have been kind of fucked lately.” Understatement. Things were totally FUBAR.
She nodded. “I noticed.”
Did I hear a note of sadness in her voice? Or was it anger?
Desperate to get the hell away from this topic, I added, “Anyway, I went and talked to Lacey after she left. She’s not upset anymore.” Fuck, that sounded bad. I wet my lips. “I mean, I don’t think she was ever really upset. Just . . . startled.”