“I’m in my slippers, hon. Let me get my shoes,” she said instantly.
Totally a good neighbor.
And she’d so totally heard about me and Merry.
She got her shoes.
I followed her over to my house and sat in my car until I saw the door close behind her. Then I sat in it until I saw my curtains flickering with the late show on TV.
After that, I backed out.
I hit Merry’s complex, and before I could turn tail and do the easy thing rather than doing what I’d promised him I would do and give us the best shot I could give, I got out of my car and hauled my ass up to his place.
There was a window in his apartment that faced the landing. No light.
I knocked as loud as I could without being obnoxious to him or his neighbors.
It took too much time (probably ten seconds) before dim light came from the blinds at his front window. I heard the locks go and the door was opened.
Not opened.
Hauled open.
“Fuck, Cher, is everything okay?”
I looked up at his face, lit by the outside lights on his landing, and saw distant-Merry was not with me.
He looked worried.
But he smelled like cigarettes and it hit me it’d been a while since I’d smelled that on Merry.
“I don’t know, baby, is it?” I asked carefully.
“Where’s Ethan?” he asked in return, his gaze flicking beyond me.
“Tilly’s at the house keepin’ an eye on things until I get back.”
Merry’s eyes narrowed when they came back to me. “Babe, it’s nearly eleven.”
I knew that. I just didn’t know why he was telling me that. He couldn’t be so far gone he didn’t know why I was there.
Could he?
“We have to talk,” I told him.
“About what?” he asked.
“About you checkin’ out at dinner tonight.”
There it was. I saw it happen and it freaked my shit right out.
The door closed on his soul and that was written all over his face.
“I didn’t check out at dinner tonight,” he lied.
“Merry—”
“I had my ass in a seat, eatin’ tater tot casserole, and you were right there with me.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
His brows snapped together. “You mean to make problems that aren’t there?”
Seriously?
“Merry, you checked out.”
He shook his head at the same time he sighed. “Get back to Ethan, Cher.”
I lifted a hand. “Merry—”
“It’s late. Get back to your kid.”
“Dammit, Merry,” I snapped. “Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Boss, you are not talkin’ to a princess who could climb on top of a mattress, feel a pea, and bitch about that shit. You’re talkin’ to me—a real woman who knows what’s important,” I snapped. “And you checked out tonight. Now, you gotta know that I know, like every-fuckin’-body knows, a Merrick checks out, you don’t dick around with checkin’ him back in.”
His face went hard. “We’ll talk about this on Saturday.”
So there was something to talk about.
And he wanted to wait until Saturday. Two whole days for him to retreat further from me?
“We’ll talk about it now.”
“Listen, Cher, I do not need another woman at my door wantin’ a chat with me when I do not want that shit.”
A low blow, pairing me with Mia to push me away.
I stared at him.
Then I pushed right in.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
I went to the back of his couch, threw my bag and keys in the seat, and turned to him, yanking my jacket off.
“Know this play too,” he stated. “Not in the mood to chat and not in the mood for a woman to fall on my dick, thinkin’ that says everything.”
That was an outrageously low blow.
Shit.
Okay, I needed to hold it together, not go batshit crazy and mouth off, saying something I’d regret.
I took in a deep breath and draped my jacket over the back of the couch to give myself time to do that.
Only then did I look at him.
“What triggered it?” I asked quietly.
He stared at me before he threw the door to, turned back to me, and crossed his arms on his chest.
But he didn’t speak.
“What’s fuckin’ with your head, Merry?” I pushed.
“Right now, you,” he returned.
“Did I do something before?”
He shook his head, murmuring, “Jesus, Cher.”
I kept at him.
“Ethan?”
He stopped shaking his head and just looked at me.
“Mom?” I continued.
He didn’t answer.
I took him in. Still in his nice button-up shirt, this one navy, perfect for his eyes, perfect for his coloring. Dark jeans that fit good. A fantastic belt. Nice but casual boots. That thick, dark hair that, even though I knew he was in his early forties, had not even a strand of silver in it. Set features in a strong, handsome face.
Five hours ago, all that was mine.
Now he was withholding it from me.
I wanted it back.
I closed my eyes, opened them and whispered, “You mean the world to me.”
His tall, lean body jerked only slightly, like he caught it and tried to check it before the movement gave him away.
But I saw it.
“For a week, I’ve been happy,” I told him.