Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,23

it was on a dating app.”

Marcy laughs. “It was actually at his office. Then it was on a dating app.”

“Meh. A dating app was involved in some way, shape, or form, so I’m still gonna take credit. Pay up, Benny Boy.” With her hand outstretched toward me, she jokingly waits for me to fill it with some cash. When she catches Marcy’s confusion, Krista explains, “I had to fight tooth and nail to get that boy to download a few dating apps. In fact, I’m the one who set up most of his profiles because he was so against dating after my twin sister died. I believe his argument was, ‘Not a chance in hell will I be able to find a girl worth dating on the internet,’ to which I replied, ‘Wanna bet?’ And now, he owes me a hundred bucks because you, my friend, are obviously worth dating, or he wouldn’t have cooked for you.”

“Cooked for me?”

“Aaand, now, it’s time for you to go, Krista,” I interrupt. “Thanks for stopping by.”

She purses her lips before murmuring, “Don’t let this guy push you around, Marcy. He likes strong women.” She winks. “See ya around.”

With a pat on my chest, Krista heads right back out the front door while Marcy watches her retreat. Her stunned expression would be adorable if I wasn’t so terrified about what she’s thinking right now.

When the front door closes a few seconds later, it blankets my house in silence as I carefully study the girl in front of me.

“She seems…nice?” Marcy offers, though it comes out as more of a question than a statement.

Chuckling, I sit down across from her. “She’s a pain in the ass, that’s what she is. I’m sorry if she scared you.”

“She didn’t scare me. She seems like a handful, but the good kind. Honestly, if she hadn’t introduced herself, I probably would’ve made a few wrong assumptions that would’ve definitely soured the mood for the evening.”

“What kind of assumptions?” I ask, unable to help myself.

Digging her teeth into her lower lip, she stays silent for a minute before finding the courage to look over at me. And what I see nearly breaks me. The vulnerability. The uncertainty. And above all, the shame.

“I’ve uh, I’ve been the other woman before…without even knowing it. We weren’t even dating or anything. We’d just met at the bar, and he wanted to come to my place, but I had a roommate at the time, so he danced around the subject for a while before inviting me to his house. I didn’t think much of it at the time and was too buzzed to notice the family pictures hanging on the walls until she walked in on us in their bed.”

“Shit, Marce––”

“I know, huh?” She tries to keep her tone light, but I can see the regret in her eyes. Hell, it’s practically suffocating her. “And when I heard a feminine voice at the front door, I kind of had a weird déjà vu moment. I guess it felt like I was intruding in your home. That I was where someone else was meant to be.”

Kate.

Cupping the side of her face, I pull her into another kiss in hopes of erasing her doubt along with my guilt for inviting her over here in the first place.

It doesn’t work.

Krista’s words echo through my head as I sample Marcy’s mouth, savoring her unique flavor that is nothing like Kate’s, yet familiar all the same.

She would want you to move on.

Bullshit. Besides, having sex with Marcy isn’t moving on from Kate. It’s sex. Simple. Transactional. I’ve done it before with other women, and I can do it again without getting attached.

Then why the hell did I invite her to my place? Why did I offer to cook for her? Why did I let her wear Kate’s backup apron since her favorite is tucked away in our room? Maybe Marcy’s right. Maybe she is intruding. It’s not her fault, though. It’s mine. I should’ve never put her in this position. I’m just as bad as the asshole from her story. Maybe I’m even worse because I laid it all out on the table for her. I explained that I want to use her, but I’m unwilling to give her anything real. Then I practically played house with her by planting her in the middle of a scenario I’ve acted out a thousand times with my wife.

That’s so messed up.

Kate’s gone. And the terrifying part is that I haven’t really