Hate to Date You (Dating #4) - Monica Murphy Page 0,77
from this development.”
“It doesn’t matter. I want this one. Let’s head back to your office and start the paperwork. I don’t want to lose my chance,” Grace says.
“Sounds good,” I say with a quick nod before I hightail it out of there, heading straight for my car. I let the two women walk back together, stewing in my anger and sadness as I check my notifications.
There’s nothing going on.
It’s not serious.
The words replay in my head, over and over, making me sadder. I’m not usually the one who wants to push for a serious relationship. Actually, I’m never the one.
With this woman, it was different. I was different.
But I guess that’s not the case. I’m the same. Temporary. A quick date, a quick lay, whatever, and then it’s over.
Over.
Twenty-Six
Stella
The moment I could get out of Carter’s car, I dashed out. I don’t even think he’d put it in park yet when he pulled up to the curb in front of his work. I was out and crossing the street, yelling over my shoulder I’d call my nonna later as I made my way to my apartment.
I didn’t say a word to Carter.
Once I got inside, I tore off all my clothes and took a long, soaking shower, crying unconsolably. I blew it. I fucked it all up because as usual, I got scared. I saw the misery on Carter’s face when I said we weren’t serious. That we were nothing. I saw the disbelief on my nonna’s face too, and she called me out on it when we were making our way back to Carter’s vehicle before we left the condo earlier.
“You’re going to ruin a good thing,” Nonna said.
“What do you mean?”
“Saying such hurtful things to such a good man. He’s a keeper, Stella. But I’m thinking you’re just too blind and hell-bent on self-sabotaging to see it.”
I didn’t understand the self-sabotaging remark. What does she even mean? I don’t self-sabotage. I just know my limits.
I let myself cry a little more before I finally get out of the shower. I blow-dry my hair. Put on a mask that’ll draw out all the impurities in my skin and leave it refreshed and glowing, but when I wash it off, I just look splotchy and miserable, which starts a fresh new batch of tears.
An hour ticks by. Then two. I wonder where Carter is. Will he return? Or is he so mad and hurt that he’ll never come back? Maybe he’ll send Caroline to pick up his things and I’ll never see him again. I should go to him. I should apologize for what I said, and tell him I didn’t mean it.
Did I mean it, though?
Since he’s moved in, my opinion has changed. Carter is a good guy. I’m beyond attracted to him. We’re compatible, and I’m not just talking sexually. I enjoy spending time with him. We have long conversations almost on a nightly basis and he makes me think. I like his jokes. He makes me laugh. We like to watch the same movies. He sends me a look and I want to melt. He touches me and I want more.
I even like his stupid barbecue chicken pizza.
I’m hiding out in my room when I finally hear the front door open—nearly three hours since I ran out of his car—and I hold my breath as I hear him move about the apartment. No, honey, I’m home announcement. I’m not stretched out on the bed wearing fancy lingerie either. He’s glumly quiet, as in I can feel his dark mood permeate, spreading into every room in the apartment. It doesn’t help that I’m feeling pretty morose myself.
Finally, he appears in the open doorway of my bedroom, his expression completely unreadable. I sit up in the middle of the bed, quickly wiping beneath my eyes and hoping I don’t look like I’ve been crying.
I’m sure I look like I’ve been crying.
“The sellers already accepted our offer. Your grandmother got the condo,” he says, his voice devoid of any emotion.
“That’s great.” I swallow hard, unsure of what to do or say next. “Thank you for helping her.”
My apology feels lame, but it’s all I got.
He doesn’t acknowledge what I said. “I thought you’d like to know.”
And then he walks away.
I don’t move for a moment, considering what just happened. That’s all he’s going to say? He’s not going to try to argue with me at least? Does he really not care that much after all?