Home > As Long As You Love Me (2B Trilogy #2)(50)

As Long As You Love Me (2B Trilogy #2)(50)
Author: Ann Aguirre

My mom circled around the car once and gave an approving nod. “This is a really sensible purchase.”

“Dammit. Now I have buyer’s remorse. I knew I should’ve bought that old DeLorean on eBay instead.”

“If you want, I can ask Stuart about car insurance for you.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

“Not a problem. Don’t make any plans for next weekend, all right? Stuart and I are hosting a...thing. It would mean a lot to me if you came.”

My gaze flew immediately to her left hand, which was ringless. I raised a brow. “Oh, yeah? Something you’d like to tell me?”

“There might be an interesting announcement.” She glowed at me.

I couldn’t remember ever seeing her look that way, even before my dad went broke. “I’ll be there. Just tell me where and when.”

“Thanks, honey. It’s next Saturday at eight. We rented a private room at the Grove. Are you coming home or...?”

“I’d better stop by Rob’s. I’m not trying to hide this from him, I just didn’t want to have the ‘returning your truck—it’s fine, keep it,’ discussion. This way, it’s a done deal.”

“Okay, good luck.”

He was home by the time I got to his place, just climbing out of his truck. Usually he’d showered by the time I arrived, so I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him sweaty and dirty after a hard day’s work. His hair was a little shaggy, grown out for the winter. Rob was the kind of guy who got, like, three haircuts a year, two of them during the warmer months. At the moment, he had the beginnings of a beard, and I was inclined to encourage him to grow it.

I swung out of my car. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, yourself.” His gaze went to the Civic. “Can I figure Tessa’s back in the garage?”

I nodded and told him where to find the keys. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Not a problem.” Maybe he was too tired to argue; that could be good for me. “You want to come in?”

Huh. That was a decidedly cooler greeting than I usually got from him. By now he’d ordinarily have grabbed me and kissed me, said something adorable, sweet or both. Before, you said I didn’t need to call before stopping by.

“Not if you’re busy.” Pain splintered outward, starting with a weird, awful tightness in my chest.

“It’s fine, come on.” He headed for the door, unlocked it and wiped his boots on the mat outside. Before stepping onto the polished hardwood, he pulled them off and left them outside.

My shoes weren’t as filthy, but I took them off and left them on the rug just inside. Holy shit. The living room was done, completely finished, painted and furnished. Rob’s taste ran to simplicity, but he had phenomenal style. A soft ecru rug centered the room, allowing the floors to shine in darker contrast. He’d added a chocolate-and-caramel-striped sofa and a plain brown love seat. Clearly he’d made the coffee table himself, and it was a gorgeous piece with flat surfaces above and below for magazines and remotes, then drawers below, likely for hiding stuff, like afghans or snacks. I’d picked out the paint for the walls, but I couldn’t have imagined how nice it would look all pulled together. No pictures yet, but the whole downstairs was done.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. The place looks fantastic.”

He folded his arms, unresponsive to my praise. “We’re just full of not telling each other things, huh?”

“Is this about the car?” I tensed, gearing up for our first real argument.

Before now, I never stuck around long enough to have these awkward moments, where we stepped on each other’s feelings and then had to figure out how to make it right. My instincts told me to run. Huh. So maybe it’s not just guys who bail. Somehow I kept the awful swirling in my stomach from driving me out of the front door.

“You’re the smart one. Figure it out.”

That pissed me off for, like, ten reasons. “Maybe I should let you cool off.”

He let out a sigh. “No, we have to settle this. It’s been a long, crappy day, and it’s harder than I expected at work without my dad. And then I come home to...this. You want the truth? This hurts, Lauren. I mean, you didn’t talk to me or ask me to inspect the car before you bought it. That’s the one thing I know about—fixing things. I can’t do a lot for you as a boyfriend, and it makes me feel like a worthless sack of shit when you cut me out. It’s not that I don’t want you to have a car, I just want to feel like my opinion matters.”

I never thought about it that way; I only saw it as asserting my independence, taking care of myself so Rob didn’t have to. The ache in my chest intensified. It would be better if he were mad, but the look—a raw mixture of pain and sadness—in his eyes said I’d made him feel just like everyone else, as if he wasn’t smart enough for me to solicit his input.

“So...you just wish I’d taken you with me to look, is that right?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

“But...you said it was a waste of money. I didn’t want to argue.”

“You think we’re never going to butt heads? That’s not how this works. If you’ve made up your mind, it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s your money and your call.”

“I’m sorry. In hindsight, I should’ve asked you. But...that seems like a super couple-y thing to do, and...I didn’t know you were my boyfriend.”

He actually flinched like I’d smacked him in the face. Oh, shit. You made it worse. “What the fuck do you think we’ve been doing? I went to your work, remember, and set your boss straight, made it really clear that you’re off-limits.”

The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt Rob. Tears threatened, and I hadn’t cried in front of anyone besides Nadia in years. I chewed on my lip, trying to control the meltdown. This time, though, it wasn’t panic. I’d thought an anxiety attack provided the worst feeling in the world, but nope. Knowing I’d trampled all over his feelings like a thoughtless asshole—that was the pit of hell.

“I thought that was just...you doing me a favor, getting Davies off my back.”

“No.” He spoke the word flatly. “Look, when women hit on me, I tell them I’m taken. Is that wrong?”

I pushed out a shaky breath, fighting the tightness of my throat. “It’s not. I just didn’t know, when did you clarify? I’m really sorry I hurt your feelings about the car, but you can’t expect me to guess where we stand. I wasn’t in any hurry to pin a label on it. Hell, I like being with you, even when you’re mad at me.”

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