Sugar - Lydia Michaels Page 0,112

luxuries were perks, but not necessary anymore.

I wanted a modest income making an honest living. I wanted to live outside of the shadows and make friends. I wanted to have dinner parties and join a book club and maybe even have kids one day. I didn’t want to live by a negotiated arrangement anymore, and I certainly didn’t want artificial love. I wanted the real thing.

My lashes lowered as I breathed through the ache expanding in my chest. I wanted to love Noah, but he wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t blame him. Nothing about my life was normal, and he didn’t know anything about my past. He’d been so upfront about who he was and what he wanted. And I complicated things at every turn.

And now he’d moved on. Was it that tall brunette again, the one he kissed last month? My stomach turned and sloshed at the thought.

My vision blurred under the rush of unshed tears. I wanted a friend, and I made an enemy because no one wanted a relationship with the real me.

“I can’t accept your offer, Micah.”

He turned, his gaze measuring. “You don’t need to decide tonight. We have time.”

I shook my head. I didn’t need time. “I’m sorry. I love you for helping me, but this was never meant to be long term. In three months, I’m graduating. The fact that I’ll have no college debt is a miracle, but it’s time for me to start living a normal life.”

Maybe I’d move to the suburbs and find a summer job in retail while I looked for a teaching position. I could rent a modest apartment and save up for a car. My clothes would be mostly cotton, and my evenings would be my own.

“Are you saying you want to end things?”

Was I? My tuition was paid, but I had very little saved, and I still needed a place to live. “Not yet, but eventually. I need to stick to my original plan.”

In three months, I needed to let all of this go. Including Noah.

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

I met his stare. “Life would have been so easy if I could love you. But I’m not sure I know how to love.”

His eyes softened. “You know how to love, Avery. But it’s going to take a special man to earn it. Don’t give anything to someone who has nothing to give back.”

I smiled. He’d said those same words to me many times when teaching me the rules of being a sugar baby. Everything was a trade, according to Micah. Maybe that was why he’d found so much success. He didn’t do anything without assuring he benefited someway in the end.

I wasn’t sure that applied to love and matters of the heart. At the moment, I didn’t need Noah to love me or even forgive me, but I needed him to know I was sorry I hurt him and that I cared about him more than anyone else.

Even if I’d lost him forever, I wanted to give him that.

37

Noah

“Can I get you a refill?”

I slid my glass forward, and the bartender snatched it. Grinding my molars, I stared at the bar, silently calling myself seven kinds of fucked up.

I was doing fine and arrogantly thought things were better, but nothing had changed. She was still selling dates, and Micah was still a regular part of her life. As a matter of fact, the other man was getting awfully cozy at her place—or should I say his place.

A fresh cocktail landed in front of me, and I sipped it. I was a fucking idiot.

Getting blindsided tonight was my own damn fault. Realizing the guy wasn’t just dropping her off and had actually parked his car … yeah, that sucked.

Guess she was moving on—just like I was supposed to do. Just like I was doing, sitting here with the rest of single Philadelphia drinking my fucking loneliness away.

“Noah?”

Pivoting on my stool, I did a double take. “Lucy?”

My assistant gave a shy smile. “Are you meeting someone?”

She didn’t look like her normal self. Gone were the cardigan and bad shoes. And where had all that cleavage come from? “No, I’m here by myself.”

“Me too.”

My brow tightened. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her eyes looked huge. The way she had her makeup done… “You look pretty. You’re not on a date?”

“Th—thank you.” She climbed onto the stool beside mine, but still only came up to my shoulder. “No, no date. I don’t know what’s worse, sitting home alone on

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