Even though this was different from what he’d experienced with Sarah Jane, it felt painfully similar. Both women had broken his trust.
Why did this hurt a million times more than when he’d caught Sarah Jane with another man? Not only was Lizzie not touching another man, but he’d watched the videos. No one would ever put the bespectacled blond woman together with sweet brunette Lizzie Barber. She’d done a great job of keeping her identity a secret. Blue had even checked Who Is, a website that provides data on the owners of domains, and she’d made all of that information private, too.
He told himself that it shouldn’t matter if she’d kept her identity private or not; she’d still broken his trust. But he knew that was a lie. Everything mattered. Lizzie mattered, damn it, and even though he was hurt and confused, it was Lizzie that still filled his heart and his mind—and it was Lizzie he was worried about now.
He pulled out of the parking lot, and a few minutes later he pulled up in front of Lizzie’s dark and empty house, wondering where she could be this late. Her class had ended more than an hour ago. Maybe she was with Sky. Sky had called him twice this afternoon, but he hadn’t had it in him to answer the calls. She was so excited about them finally dating that he didn’t want to go through the Don’t worry; it’ll all work out speech that girls always had at the ready. He was also upset with Sky for not warning him about this whole mess.
His phone vibrated with a text and his heart hoped it was from Lizzie—although he couldn’t imagine why she’d text him, especially after he hadn’t returned her text from earlier that morning. He looked at his phone, and the disappointment at seeing his sister’s name hurt way too much for him to admit, even to himself. He shoved his phone into his pocket without reading Trish’s text and drove away.
Chapter Seventeen
AFTER ANOTHER SLEEPNESS night, Blue was showered and dressed before dawn. He needed to see Lizzie, to make sure she was okay and to apologize for reacting like an ass. He wanted to understand why she would put herself in that situation. If she’d even talk to him after the way he’d shut her down when she’d tried to explain. Not that he could have helped how he’d reacted. To say that this had been a blow would be putting it mildly. Hearing that Lizzie was the Naked Baker had completely snowed him under.
The ache of not being with Lizzie was equally as unbearable as the pain of feeling duped. Unwilling to go another day without talking to her, he drove over to her house at six o’clock, parked out front, and waited for her dark house to come to life.
When the lights turned on, he headed around to the kitchen door. He lifted his hand to knock and hesitated, drinking her in for a minute as she stood in the center of the kitchen, her gaze hovering over the sink. He wondered what she was thinking and whether she was thinking of him the way he was thinking of her. She turned, and their eyes connected. Heat stroked down his spine, and a second later, when he must have come into focus through the window on the door, her eyes filled with sadness. His stomach knotted and his heart ached anew.
A hundred unanswered questions settled between them. A full minute later, Lizzie rolled back her shoulders and lifted her chin. He wondered how often she’d had to ready herself like that. Was it hard for her to don the apron and heels and perform in front of the camera? Or did she enjoy it?
Blue’s heart pounded faster with every step she took toward the door, making it hard for him to breathe.
He heard the locks turn, and then the door swung open. She was right there, her sad eyes puffy, as if she’d been crying all night, her sweet lips, which usually appeared to be smiling, were downturned at the edges, and it nearly killed him.
“Hi,” he managed.
“Hi.”
“I’m sorry to show up without warning.”
She stepped aside to let him in. “It’s okay. You can work. I’ll be out of here in a minute.”
He stepped in close, fighting the urge to reach out to her, to hold her until the sadness left them both. To kiss her until they forgot why they were upset in the first place. She closed the door behind him, and the need to be closer was too strong to resist. He touched her shoulder as she took a step away.
She turned, blinking up at him through those impossibly long lashes of hers, drawing him in closer.
“Can we talk?” He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from holding her so she couldn’t walk away. It would be so easy to take her in his arms, love her, and forget the rest for a while, but he’d screwed up as much as she had, and he didn’t want to force her into talking with him.
She nodded and pressed her lips into a thin line.
“I watched the videos,” he admitted, feeling ashamed, as if he’d done something dirty, and that shame quickly began changing into anger again. He worked hard to push it down deep. He didn’t want to get angry. He wanted to talk.