Depends on Who's Asking - Lani Lynn Vale Page 0,32

long stretch of silence before he said, “Uh, I asked her if I could borrow it.”

I blinked. “Oh, okay. I guess that makes sense seeing as we never exchanged cell phone numbers, huh? Who would’ve thought that we’d need them?”

When you were practically living with someone in a one-room area, needing their cell phone number was rather overkill.

What was I going to do? Call him from the gym?

“Uh, yeah.” Saint cleared his throat. He sounded tired. “Listen, Caro. I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last couple of hours, and I think that what we had went a little too fast for me. I think that I’m going to take a couple of days to cool off.”

My foot drifted off the accelerator as I slowly searched for somewhere to pull over.

Was Saint breaking up with me?

“Ummm,” I said as I turned into the nearest parking lot, which hilariously happened to be the police station. “Are you… what?”

I likely sounded confused.

I was confused.

Where had that come from?

“Things are just really busy right now with it being Christmas. I have a shit ton of stuff to do since I’ve been off for twelve days. You’re likely backed up as well. I was hoping that we could revisit us after the holiday,” he explained.

He was breaking up with me.

If you could call what we had a relationship.

Maybe what we had really was all in my head. Maybe I had made it out to be more.

But it wasn’t like I went around giving my body to just anyone.

I’d had a thing for Saint for a very long time. And it wasn’t something that I would’ve gone into lightly.

“O-okay,” I said the only thing I could say. “Well, bye then.”

I hung up before he could say something else to make me feel like shit.

And, in the end, the stupid cookie ice cream sundae didn’t even cheer me up.

• • •

“I’m fine.” I blew my nose. “I’m healthy, and I’m home. There’s nothing else I could ask for at this point.”

Nothing else that I would debase myself to ask for, anyway.

I’d said my peace when it came to Saint Nicholson.

I couldn’t do anything else but what I’d already done—which was give him what he wanted.

And, to make matters worse, I was talking to myself.

The Hallmark movie that I was watching switched to a commercial, and it was then that I realized that even Hallmark cheesy Christmas movies wouldn’t be cheering me up today.

I was doomed.

If that didn’t work, I wasn’t sure what would.

That’s when I burst out crying, again, because of course I would do this.

I was a loser when it came to dating.

I’d had sex with all of two people in my life.

One, my short-term boyfriend that I’d been friends with for years before that, and Saint.

And boy, did I realize what I was missing now that I’d been with Saint.

Sex with my ex-boyfriend had never been that good.

Which, might I add, was likely part of the problem.

Saint was a great person. He was sexy as hell.

And he didn’t want me.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes with the corner of my sweatshirt.

A sweatshirt that I’d inadvertently stolen from Saint before he’d taken off to go home.

I was honestly glad that I’d accidentally grabbed it instead of mine.

I’d never give it back, and more than likely, it would be the only thing that I had left of him to remember him by.

I wiped my eyes and tried to will myself to get it under control and had only half succeeded when there was a knock at the door. I turned and looked at it with horror.

“Who is it?” I called out.

There was a long pause and then, “It’s Sierra.”

I frowned as I got up, my feet all but shuffling on the shag carpeting as I made my way to the door.

I swung the door open and frowned hard. “Yes?”

Sierra’s lips twitched. “I know by now you’ve figured out that I was with Saint today.”

I had.

That was partially why I was mad at her. She knew something and had refused to tell me what it was.

Then Saint had called and broken the news that he didn’t think we should be friends any longer, and now I was pissed because Sierra was my friend. Not Saint’s.

“I just wanted to come over here and tell you that nothing is as it seems,” she said. “Something more is going on. He came over frantic today, wanting to borrow a phone. I let him, and he disappeared back to his