Page 90 of Meet Cute Reboot
“Tell me about the other hussy. I mean, secretary.”
I tell her about the flirting, how I’d thought it was harmless entertainment, how I ignored the subtle guilt I felt whenever I paid Jani too intimate of a compliment. I don’t make excuses for myself. I just tell her the facts. That Jani tried to kiss me, and I fired her.
“Cassie, the night you found out I cheated, I was going to—”
Cassie jumps off the couch. She rubs her arms. “I’m kind of cold. Do you need a blanket?”
I straighten. “No. I’m good.”
“I’ll—I’ll be right back.”
She leaves me there staring at the blank television, wondering what’s going through her head. Did I give her what she needed? The gory, unflattering details. Play-by-plays of the worst decisions of my life.
I half expect her to hide away in the loft and never come down. Five minutes later she returns carrying a patchwork quilt.
“Is that one of Granny’s?” I ask.
She nods. “Nana unloaded most of Granny’s quilts onto the family. She was afraid moths were going to eat them in the attic.”
“She was probably right.”
Cassie settles on the couch, props her feet on the cushion between us, and spreads the blanket over them. She leansagainst the armrest, her body tucked snuggly into the corner of the couch.
“Have you fixed up Nana’s house?” I ask.
Cassie shakes her head. “Not yet. I will though. I just need a little more time.”
“I know you will.” I offer a smile to try to soften her hardened features. I love Boss Cassie, but I don’t want her to return just yet.
“After we broke up, I couldn’t date,” she says. She looks at me steadily. “I was afraid I would fall in love with another cheater.”
I look down at my empty wine glass and clear my throat. Maybe I could use another sip or two. I reach past Cassie, grab the bottle, and fill my glass.
“And then I married a wet rag,” Cassie continues. “Michael is a great guy, but we were boring together. There wasn’t a spark. It felt safe. Textbook. But it was a mistake.”
“I’m sorry.”
Cassie presses her hand to her forehead. “Sorry doesn’t fix it.”
“I know. I don’t know how to fix it. I’m just trying—”
“Stop. It’s enough. I don’t want to hear any more. Can we just listen to the music?”
“Sure.”
Except I’d rather get it all out, tell Cassie that after we broke up, I threw myself into my work, sometimes sleeping at the office because I couldn’t stand to sleep alone in my own bed. Mostly, I want to tell Cassie about the whole mess with Macy, how Macy and I fought every day, how I was miserable, but I stayed to prove to myself that I could commit, believing Macy’s kid was mine, falling in love with that little heartbeat, the little boy with two hands and two feet. And the crushing blow when I found out Gabe wasn’t mine. How it split me in two, dredged up every wrong I’d ever committed, and made me atone for everylie. How I mourned for months, and how finally, I came out the other side. A changed man. The man I am now.
But Cassie isn’t ready for my split open heart. She has her own to deal with, the split caused by me. I know sorry doesn’t fix the past, but maybe if I keep saying it, she’ll believe me.
“Cassie.”
I glance over. She’s cuddled under her blanket, clutching it to her neck as she sleeps on her side. Her peaceful expression bears no hint of anger. I watch the gentle in and out of her breath, trace her fingers with my eyes, imagine running my hands through her damp, lavender-scented hair, but I can’t sit here staring at her forever. It’s time for me to leave.
Rather than wake her, I decide to write a note. I enter the kitchen and quietly open and close drawers until I find a pen and paper.
You fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake you. Enjoy your nap, sleepyhead. I’ll text you tomorrow.
I set the note on the island and then swing around and walk back to the couch. She’s still sleeping soundly, a faint smile on her lips. Is she dreaming of me or a roomful of fluffy cats? I’m betting on the fluffy cats.