Page 48 of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
My laughter is self-deprecating. “I wish.”
“You want to talk about it?” she asks.
“About what?”
“What’s bugging you. I may not be able to see you, but I can hear it in your voice. You’re upset.”
I blink rapidly at the tears gathering along my lashes, feeling lonelier than I did even a few minutes ago. “There’s not much to talk about.”
Because I still haven’t figured out what exactly Evan and I had and how it got so screwed up so fast.
“You want to come down and join me for New Year’s?”
“I’ll think about it—” My interior phone buzzes then. The one connected to the front desk of the building, so I hastily say goodbye and snatch it off the receiver.
“Yes?”
“Princess.”
The tears are back with a vengeance, but I can’t tell whether they’re angry tears or sad tears. Evan’s voice was the last one I expected when I picked up this phone.
“Go away, Evan.”
“I want to talk to you. Please. Just give me a few minutes. I called from down here because I didn’t want to just show up at your door unannounced if you didn’t want to see me. I don’t want to take that choice away from you.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“I have some stuff to tell you. Please? Five minutes. If you still want me to go after that, I’ll leave.”
I hesitate. Stupid heart. The tone of his voice when he uses the wordpleasesways the traitorous organ.
“I shouldn’t—”
“I’ll be right there.”
The line goes dead, and my heart pounds in my chest.
I don’t want to see him.
I need to see him.
What could he possibly say to make up for the accusations he slung in my direction?
A soft knock signals that my time for contemplation is up. Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and open the door immediately so he knows where I am—right on the other side.
Scruff shadows his normally sharp jawline, and dark smudges are evident beneath eyes the color of a stormy ocean. I want to move closer and wrap my arms around him.
The fuck you do. We’re mad at him, remember?
I straighten, steel infusing my spine and locking me in place with my hand on the door.
“Princess—”
“What do you want, Evan?” At least my voice is strong. But I’m sure my oversized sweatshirt and yoga pants, lack of makeup, and the messy bun on top of my head counteract the effect.
His shoulders sink, and his eyes lose what little light had filtered from inside the depths.
“I wanted to apologize.”
