Willa dropped the phone then scrambled to pick it back up. “Sorry about that. Slippery phone case. Did you say you’re on your way here?”
“I did.”
“Lexi’s at work.”
“That’s fine. It’s you I have to talk to.”
Have to? Shit. Don’t panic. It’s probably nothing. “About anything in particular?”
“I’d rather talk about it when I’m there.”
Willa glanced down at herself again. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest. “I’m actually busy tonight. I’m finishing up something I need done for tomorrow. Can this wait?”
Like until never?
“What are you working on? Anything I could help you with?”
She would have loved to have been able to respond with something impressive. The truth was almost too lame to voice aloud. I’m almost thirty and—“I’m tweaking my résumé.”
“I hire people all the time. I could give you some suggestions.”
I’m sure you could, but I can’t be alone with you. It hurts too much. Willa imagined how the evening would go if she said yes to him coming over. She’d rush around like a maniac throwing on clothing she hoped made her look good. She’d do her makeup like a madwoman. By the time he’d arrive she’d be in a nervous sweat and hating herself for it. For nothing. No. “Sorry, Lance, but tonight’s not good. I don’t want company. I do have a minute, though, if you need to ask me something.”
“I just pulled up to the front of your building.”
Panic set in. Sorry, I’ve already met my quota when it comes to making a fool of myself over you. “You’re not hearing what I’m saying, Lance.”
“And that is?”
Willa closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip before answering. This isn’t supposed to be hard. He’s not supposed to matter anymore. “I don’t want to see anyone tonight. Goodnight. Sorry you drove over here for nothing.”
Willa hung up and glared at her reflection across the room. She was a tangle of resentment. She’d closed the door on that time in her life and nothing good could come from opening it. I shouldn’t have called him back. Hearing his voice . . . hearing the way he said her name . . . Why can’t I leave that door shut? I have to get this job with Clay, anything to get me away from Boston even if only for a short time. Just long enough to clear my head.
Stop.
Step one: get this job.
She forced herself to focus on preparing for her interview. She reworded and added to her work history until she was satisfied that it represented the best of what she’d done and what she could offer any employer. She printed it out, placed it in a neat folder, and put it on the counter next to her keys.
With her task completed, all that was left was to think about how rude she’d been to Lance. If I don’t apologize things will get awkward. I didn’t believe I could be happy again, but I am. I can’t let him ruin that.
A memory came to her in a flash: blood running down her legs, too much to wash away in the shower. And the pain. God, the pain.
She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands. Don’t go there.
Unlike Kenzi, the truth won’t free me.
It’ll only make me hate Lexi.
Lance.
And myself.
Enough time has gone by. Forget.
Do yourself a favor and forget.
Lance slammed the door of his apartment behind him and dropped his keys into the small bowl he kept on the table just inside. He’d tried to call Willa back, but she hadn’t answered. He didn’t consider himself a vain man, but he was offended. No one brushed him off the way Willa did. He was rich, successful, and attractive. Women wanted to be with him; men wanted to network with him. Sometimes the reverse, but never did any of them treat him the way Willa did—as if he didn’t matter at all.
He didn’t matter enough for her to be honest with him. Not then, not now.
When given the choice between seeing him and typing up a résumé, she chose the fucking résumé.
Lance yanked off his tie and shrugged off his suit jacket. You’d think after ten years of watching her choose to sit away rather than beside me at events, I’d learn.
He dropped his clothing on the back of his couch and walked over to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a Scotch. He downed it in one gulp. If she wants to work for Clay, let her.
She’s nothing more than a woman I once fucked.
The front crotch of his pants tightened instantly and he frowned. And still want.
After downing another shot of Scotch, Lance plopped onto the couch. He turned the television to a news channel and opened his laptop. He felt too restless to sleep. If it were earlier in the day, he would have gone for a run. Instead he’d settle for immersing himself in work.