Lost In Me (Here and Now) (27 page)

I lift my chin and scan the scene for Nate. The only man in a crowd of women shouldn’t be that hard to find.

I spot him in the hot tub, using his mouth to take a shot glass from between a woman’s breasts. I stamp down the jealousy I feel at the sight and want to kick the shit out of myself.

My ego was battered and beaten by my memory of what Max did. Naturally, I thought I’d make myself feel better by visiting a celebrity who buries his face in the tits of whatever woman is handy. This was a stellar plan. Yet I can’t turn around. I keep moving, keep heading toward Nate and this I-don’t-know-what I’m after.

The click of my heels against the stone patio is muffled by the music and chatter, but I narrow in on the sound, concentrate on it as I cross to him.

He’s laughing about something, but when his gaze settles on me, his smile falls away. And after the way I treated him last time I saw him, who can blame him?

“Well, look who came to party,” he says, his words only slightly slurred.

He’s drunk. I can see it in his eyes. Hell, I can practically smell the booze rolling off everyone in that hot tub.

“Can we talk?” My words come out meek, and I wish I could take them back and replace them with a command.
We need to talk.
Something. Anything other than sounding and feeling weak and unwanted. I’m so sick of feeling unwanted.

“What do you think, ladies?” he asks the woman around him. “Is there room for one more?”

The women pout and crowd around Nate. “Aren’t we enough for you, Crane?” one asks. Another says, “Things were just getting interesting.” And another complains, “It’s already crowded in here. There’s hardly room for
her
.”

The jab at my size hurts worse than it would have fifty pounds ago. Because in my size tens, I’m bigger than the rest of them, the kind of women who scour racks for extra-small shorts. It hurts more than it would have before because this is as good as I get and I know it. In fact,
this
probably isn’t going to last.

I’m so stupid. I have a man at home who loves me. Who is more than I deserve. Who looks at me like I’m his world. Max screwed up. He hurt me. Betrayed me. But I can imagine a life with him, raising our kids in New Hope alongside our friends. So why am I here?

Nate’s gaze rakes over me, from my head to my toes, trailing electric fingers of need in its path. Why does my body react when he looks at me like this? “You want to talk?” he says, lifting heavy-lidded eyes back to mine. “Climb on in.” He turns to the women around him. “Sorry, ladies. I’m gonna need you to leave for a bit. You’re right. No room for her and all of you, and I like her more.”

The women whine in unison and fawn at Nate. He locks his eyes on mine for two beats before pressing a hard, open-mouthed kiss to the woman next to him. It’s wet, sloppy, and entirely for my benefit, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of looking away.

My stomach clenches, but I keep my face impassive as he releases her and the three women climb out of the hot tub, seemingly unconcerned with their bare chests.

He doesn’t even watch them go. HeeHe just he leans his head back, closes his eyes, and says, “You wanna talk, you’re gonna have to climb in.”

“I’m—” I shake my head, which is stupid since he can’t see me. “I’m not wearing a swimsuit.”

He lifts his head, and this time his gaze lands on my left hand. “I guess it can wait, then.”

“I came all the way here,” I say in a hard whisper. I don’t want to call too much attention to myself. “The least you can do is talk to me.”

“A lot of people visit me here.” He picks up a shot glass off the back of the tub and throws it back. “Too bad you didn’t bring a suit. We could have that talk you’re so set on.”

Fuck it. Even in underwear and a bra, I’ll be more modestly covered than most of the women here tonight. I kick off my shoes and peel the dress off over my head. I fold it neatly before setting it in a chair. The last thing I want to do is be responsible for ruining Janelle Crane’s dress.

When I turn back to the hot tub, his eyes are on me again, hot and greedy and…something else. There’s something more in those eyes this time. Sadness?

“Take the bra off too,” he orders as I step in.

“Dream on.” I sink into the water and have to swallow back a sigh as it bubbles around me and warms my skin. I’ve had such a long, shitty day, and I could really use a relaxing soak. Instead, I’ll talk to this jackass. Did I actually believe he was the person I needed when my heart was hurting?

He’s watching me carefully. “Last time we talked, you made it profoundly clear you didn’t want to see me again.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Yet I don’t remember inviting you here.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel welcome. And is this seriously your house? It doesn’t seem like you at all.”

“Oh, so you know me now? Is that memory back?”

My cheeks burn with my blush. “Some of it.”

“Yeah?” He drops his gaze down to my breasts. “Anything good?”

“I remembered that I broke up with Max. I remembered that I never cheated on him. I remembered how much he hurt me.”

He sighs and leans his head back on the edge of the tub. “I’m not interested in being some prop for revenge.”

“This isn’t about revenge.”

He doesn’t look at me. “Sure it isn’t.”

“I called off the wedding.”

“I’ll believe that when his ring’s not on your finger. Why are you here, Hanna?”

“I’m here because nothing is as it seemed and…” And what? Why
am
I here? “You said you were in love with me.”

“Yeah, well, what was it you said?
We all make mistakes
?”

“Was the mistake being in love with me or telling me that you were?” I don’t know why it matters so much that I know, but right now it seems so important that I’d do almost anything to get an honest answer from him.

“What do you want from me?” He sounds almost bored.

I scan the party going on in full swing around us. The women, the booze, the superficial bullshit. “I just want to talk to you. Without all these people. Without all the secrets.”

He lifts a brow and grabs a phone from the ledge of the tub. He taps the screen then puts it down, and within seconds, Jamaal is coming out the back door with several other men in black suits.

“Party’s over,” Jamaal calls. “Thank you for coming. We hope you had a good time. Now it’s time to leave. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”

I blink in amazement as everyone does as he says, and minutes later, Nate and I are alone, the music is off, and the only sound is the whir of the hot tub’s jets and the hum of traffic in the distance.

“That better?” he asks softly. And maybe he’s not as drunk as I thought. And maybe he’s not bored with my presence. His eyes dip to my cleavage and back up, roaming over my face. Again, I get that feeling that he’s drinking me in. Memorizing me.

I swallow. The truth is that I want to memorize him too. The hard angles of his cheekbones and jaw, the dark brown of his bedroom eyes, the softness of his beautiful mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers.

“Why not? Maybe I should have let myself look at you the night you showed up in my bed. Maybe I should have made you talk to me then. Maybe if I knew what
you
know, I’d understand why I chose him instead of you.”

He lets out a breath and closes his eyes. I gather every bit of my courage and turn to him, straddling his lap and wrapping my arms behind his neck.

His eyes fly open. “What are you doing?”

“This isn’t about revenge.”

He brushes my jaw with the back of his knuckles.

I lean into his touch, the gentle reassurance of it. “It’s not about Max. It’s about us.”

Pain slices over his face and he drops his hand. “There is no
us,
Hanna.”

“I don’t remember making that choice. Just—”

His expression hardens. “There was no
choice.
Not about me. It was never a choice between me and Max. The only choice you had to make was whether to take Max back or not.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I never offered you what he did. The life, the marriage, the commitment. The happily-ever-fucking-after. I can’t. I won’t. It wasn’t a choice between him and me because I wasn’t offering you those things.”

I wilt and back away from him. If our relationship was purely physical, why do I feel this way? “You and me? This? It was just about sex?”

“Not even at first.”

“Then how—” I squeeze my eyes shut as the memory crashes over me and the understanding right along with it.

It was never a choice between two men.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “You have no idea how sorry.” Water sloshes as he stands and climbs out.

I follow numbly, not sure what else I’m supposed to do with myself.

He hands me a towel but doesn’t meet my eyes. “Come on. You can sleep in Janelle’s room.”

Into the house and back up the narrow stairs, he leads me to the room where Jamaal ushered me upon my arrival.

After clicking on a lamp, Nate disappears into the closet and returns with gray cotton pajamas. “These should fit,” he says. “You can stay as long as you want. You’re always welcome.”

I’m still reeling from the memory. “I feel…really stupid.”

“Don’t.” He tilts my chin until I’m looking at him. Then he drops his hand quickly, as if touching me costs him. “Please don’t.”

August—Five Days Before Accident

T
HE DELICIOUS
smells of bacon, cinnamon, and pastry dough wake me.

I roll over and stretch, my body spent in that most delicious way, my muscles singing with happiness. If a weekend in bed doing everything
but
making love makes me feel this good, how good would I feel if Nate would sleep with me?

I don’t want to go back to New Hope. I want to stay here in LA in Nate’s big-ass house, where life seems less like this ominous dark cloud waiting to be confronted and more like when I played pretend as a kid.

I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom, where I wash my face, brush my teeth, and try to calm the worst of my bed-head. After throwing on a robe, I head down to the kitchen.

Nate stands bare-chested and beautiful behind the island, the muscles in his forearms flexing as his competent hands chop apples and peaches and throw them into a bowl. Behind him, bacon sizzles on the stove, the smell incredible.

My stomach rumbles.

“Looks like you’re cooking for an army this morning.”

He looks up, noticing me for the first time since I entered the kitchen. His eyes light with his smile. He wipes his hands on a towel and skirts around the island to pull me into his arms and kiss me soundly. When he breaks the kiss and steps back, I have to grab the edge of the counter to keep my balance.

If only this were real life.

“What are you doing with all this food?” I survey the pan of rolls cooling on the counter next to some sort of casserole that looks like it has more cheese than I’ve let myself eat in months.

“I’m feeding my girl.”

My cheeks flush. I’m embarrassed that he thinks I require so much for breakfast. Downside of being a big girl. “I just need some coffee and maybe a little of that fruit salad.”

He raises a brow. “What you need is a keeper. How much weight have you lost since we met three months ago?”

Thirty-eight and a half pounds. Add that to the ten I managed to drop the five months prior and I’m almost down fifty pounds. But I know Nate won’t like my answer, so I avoid the question and cross to the coffee pot to pour myself a steaming mugful. The creamer sits next to the pot, and I look at it for a minute, tempted.
Empty calories.

When I turn around, he’s right in front of me.

“Hanna,” he whispers, tilting my chin up so I’m looking him in the eye. “I’m worried about you.”

“I needed to lose some weight. Trust me, I’m not going to waste away.”

“You didn’t need to lose an ounce.” He
is
worried. I can see it in his eyes. “Did he do this to you? Did he make you feel this way?”

No need to say who
he
is. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck, Hanna. What did this loser do to you?”

“He’s not a loser!” I shut my mouth and study my coffee. Max is off-limits, and Nate usually respects that.

“So you haven’t given him an answer yet.”

I gasp, horrified that it’s not obvious. “I wouldn’t be here if I had.”

Nate gives a sad sort of half-smile and backs up a step. “Yeah, but you see, that assumes you’re going to take him back. If you’d answered and told him no, there’d be nothing wrong with being here with me.”

He goes back to his breakfast preparations, the silence snapping between us with so many things unsaid.

When breakfast is done, Nate serves both of us. I know I won’t eat much of the calorie-laden breakfast—doing so would make me sick at this point—but I don’t argue when he fills my plate.

We sit at the glass table in the sunroom, the slow morning rain tapping on the glass. I wish for clear skies and sunshine to warm my skin through the glass. I close my eyes for a minute, imagining it, the hope it normally makes me feel.