A Flighty Fake Boyfriend (Men of St. Nachos #2) - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,71

The moment we met I lagged a thousand miles behind you. Didn’t you see me, always trying to catch up?

Epic,

What do you want me to do? Obviously, shutting us down the way I did hurt both of us, but I honestly couldn’t see a different path. I’m entrenched. My last serious relationship failed, not because I didn’t love my partner or because he didn’t love me, but because I couldn’t walk away from my job.

It wasn’t right for me to put my work before his needs.

How would it be any different with you?

Ryan

Ryan,

This is why I shouldn’t have left the way I did.

I was hurt, and I wanted to hurt you back.

Still, I’m glad I didn’t do things differently because distance is what makes this conversation possible. There’s an economy to words in written form. I think about what I say before I say it. Plus, I can fake the mature-adult thing pretty well when I have time to edit. I probably would have kicked you in the shins if I’d stayed.

You said to find what I want to do and fight for it, and if that thing didn’t exist, I should invent it.

Were you serious about that?

Because what I want is to live in St. Nacho’s, dedicate my skills to the work you do, and pursue you, even into hell if I have to.

Tell me now if the answer is no.

The rest is details.

Yours? You are [still] mine.

Epic

My hands shook when I read his message. I wavered between giddy and indignant. How could he be so brash? How was he so confident when I’d obviously tried the thing he was so certain of and failed?

He was young, so he thought he could have it all. And of course life would beat sense into him eventually, but I wished it wouldn’t. I was ambivalent about him winning in the end—I wanted what he wanted, so of course I hoped we could find an answer. But I was keenly aware that if he was able to make things work, that would mean I couldn’t because I was a failure, not because things were impossible.

I couldn’t answer. I feared putting what I wanted—the things I deeply, sincerely, and with all my heart yearned for—into writing so goddamn badly that I worked through my other fifty-seven emails first.

Not only did answering those emails take me the better part of Sunday, the blank futility of their contents swept me into the undertow of my work mindset.

The following morning I was expected to be back at my desk, ready to wade into all the evils of the world. The time I’d spent away was already behind me. The magic of it dissipating like so much fairy dust.

Except for the deeply hidden place in my heart where Epic had carved his initials, things had already started back to normal, but for the first time in my entire life, normal wasn’t going to be good enough.

I would never be content again, unless I asked for more.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The office barely rippled when I walked in Monday morning. Cary at reception glanced up and smiled.

“Mrs. Newcastle wants you to check in this morning before you get entrenched, and there were several messages for you while you were out.”

After having been in the US for a short while, Cary’s accent was noticeable again.

“Thank you.” I took the message slips from her and headed for Lila’s office.

I knocked, and she called, “Come in.”

Her office smelled of coffee and lavender. The seascape paintings echoed the distant sea view from her windows—bottle-green ocean with a cloudy gray sky.

“Welcome back.”

“Thanks. Glad to be back. Anything major happen while I was gone?”

She wore a purple pantsuit today. The ensemble, along with a yellow scarf embroidered all over with violets, made her silver hair and gray eyes brighter by contrast.

“Get a coffee and sit. How was the wedding?”

“Ostentatious,” I said while pouring myself a cup at the sideboard. “I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Yes, knowing Luis.” She sighed. “Are you glad you went?”

“Yes and no,” I replied with honesty. “I got closure.”

“And Laurie? Did he perform as expected? Were all the guests in awe?”

“Laurie couldn’t make it. Something about having to film scenes over with a different actor.”

She spread her hands on her desk. “Oh, how devastating.”

I sat in the chair across from her. “I was upset at first, but I was able to get a last-minute replacement, and we had loads of fun.”

Understatement of the year.

“That’s good, anyway.” She adjusted her scarf primly. “There’s no going