darkness, and the blue lights from the interior beer signs illuminate her angelic face. God, she’s pretty.
“What are you trying to do, Dean?”
“I’m trying to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“’Cuz I need to know what’s going on with you.”
“You don’t need to know, Dean. It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business because you and I are friends.”
She flinches at that term and closes her eyes tightly as she shakes her head. “We were friends…maybe…although honestly, that’s not true because friends don’t treat each other the way you treated me in your house on Sunday morning.”
Her words hit me right in the guts, and I groan while running a hand through my hair. “Norah, I’m sorry about that. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“Sorry doesn’t mean anything, Dean, because I fell for you, and you rejected me. I can’t stay friends with a guy who rejected me. I’m not like Kate and Lynsey. I can’t get over it and stay friends.”
“You’re nothing like Kate and Lynsey,” I groan, my head pounding at that realization. “You’re…special.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t give me the you’re special speech after you showed up here with Lala. It’s all hot air with you. It’s all that stupid flirting you did with me in the bakery, back when I was Luke Danes and you were Lorelai Gilmore.”
“Wait…I thought I was Luke.”
“No, I’m the bakery owner, I’m Luke.”
“Why do I have to be the girl?”
“Because you’re the colorful, plucky patron who blows in like a freaking storm. You mess everything up, and you leave a wake of destruction behind you.”
“What about you, Norah?” I snap, irritated that I’m taking all the blame here. “You said all that shit to me in my house and totally blindsided me with talk of marriage and babies.”
“I was speaking hypothetically,” she cries loudly, throwing her arms out dramatically. “I wasn’t telling you I wanted to marry you. God, we hadn’t been together that long. I was speaking candidly to a friend about the fact that my priorities have changed, and I’m open to more now.”
I nod slowly, my eyes narrowing. “So, because of that, you’re letting your mother play matchmaker? You’re gonna be out there dating guys like Douche Curb? Am I going to start seeing you on Pearl Street every night now?”
“I guess so.” She shrugs helplessly. “I liked having a boyfriend, fake or real…so the idea of sharing my life with someone doesn’t sound so bad. You have Lala, so why can’t I find someone too?”
I scowl, anger bubbling up inside me. “So, because you want a serious relationship, you have to cut me out of your business and your life?”
She nods and makes a noise in her throat. “That’s the way the croinut crumbles, Dean.”
“No…no. This isn’t fucking fair, Norah.” I take a couple of steps away from her to get some air, some perspective. “We promised each other we could do this. We had an agreement, and you broke that agreement.”
“And you ripped up my contract today, so I guess we’re both shitty at business,” she seethes.
My jaw clenches with frustration. “I hate this. I hate that you’re here with him. You deserve better than him, Norah.”
“I wanted you.” Her voice cracks and breaks my heart into a million tiny pieces as her eyes turn red around the edges.
My voice is hollow and emotionless when I reply flatly, “I’m not good for you.”
She steps toward me, her lips trembling, lips I’ve kissed countless times, lips I want to kiss again as she asks, “Why do you think you’re not good for me?”
“Because I’ll hurt you.” I force myself to look her in the eyes, and it’s painful. Like looking at the fucking sun.
She draws in a long breath through her nose. “Why will you hurt me?”
The muscle in my jaw tics incessantly as I swallow the knot in my throat, unwilling to utter the dark truths I know about myself. It’s better she doesn’t know. It’s better she forgets about me and thinks of me as an asshole for the rest of her life. It’ll be easier for both of us.
When she realizes I’m not going to answer, she rubs her lips together and takes a step toward the bar door. “I’m going back inside with Nate because at least he can apologize and mean it.”
She turns to walk away, and my voice is guttural when I whisper, “I do mean it.”
“Dean! Are you in there? Dean!” A loud pounding on my front door causes the ringing in my head