He quietly closes the door. “Joel said he met with you this morning.”
“He did.”
I’ve never seen him like this. So comfortable in his bare feet and wet hair, yet looking so…vulnerable, as if my sudden appearance has rattled him somehow.
“I’m not sure I can answer your questions any better than he did,” he says.
“It’s not about that contract,” I clarify.
It comes to me in real time, what I want. Why I’m here. What I’m ready to ask for.
He gestures toward the living room, as if I didn’t live here for six months. Slipping out of my coat, I follow him in. The room is warm from a roaring fire in the fireplace. There’s a half empty glass carafe of coffee, a mug, and an unopened bag from Murray’s Bagels on the coffee table. Great. I’ve interrupted his brunch. I know what’s going to be in the bag, too. A pumpernickel bagel with scallion cream cheese. Nate’s go-to. How could I forget?
He sits on the couch, but I don’t.
“Can I get you a coffee?” he asks as he refills his cup.
I shake my head no.
“What did you want to talk about, then?”
“I still have three days left,” I say. “Of our contract. I moved out early, so there are three more days that I owe, according to the document I signed.”
The mug pauses halfway to his mouth.
“You don’t owe me anything, Piper. It’s over.”
I squeeze back my disappointment and raise my chin. “Okay. So…you’re saying that you don’t want me?”
He sets the mug back down. “I’m not saying that.”
“Then…you do want me?”
“Piper.”
“I need to know, Nate. Because to me, it seems like everything you’ve done means you do have feelings for me, but you’re too much of a coward to admit it.”
He stands, and I know I should stop the words pouring out of my mouth, but I can’t.
“If you didn’t want me, you wouldn’t have left the opt-out clause in the auction contract. I think you were hoping I’d use it, that I wouldn’t get married. Why would you do that?”
He runs a hand over his mouth, shaking his head.
“Justsay it. Or tell me you feel nothing for me, and I’ll never come back here again,” I demand.
His eyes bore into me, focused and heated. Swallowing hard, he doesn’t respond. Just looks at me with those intense brown eyes that I could easily lose myself in.
But he doesn’t say a word. Of course he doesn’t.
What the hell was I thinking? Why did I even bother?
Wiping my eyes, I stalk back into the entryway and reach for my coat.
“Thanks for the dance studio,” I call over my shoulder.
I don’t know what else to say, so I don’t try as I slip an arm into my coat.
Suddenly, he’s pulling me toward him. The coat falls to the floor as I bump into his chest and his arm goes around my back.