“Stop,” she barks, her nose twitching with agitation.
“You have loads of nerve coming back here after five years and treating me as no more than a casual fuck after I offered—”
“Don’t,” she cuts me off. “Don’t bring it up. The past is the past, and I don’t want to rehash it.” She starts pacing in the lift. Wringing her hands together nervously, she looks like a caged animal. “You don’t know everything. I’m different. I’ve changed.”
“So you say,” I growl back, hating the fact my eyes linger on her body as she moves back and forth. Why does she have to look so damn beautiful? “I see the same wild girl you’ve always been. Impulsive, opinionated, no regard for other people’s feelings…”
She turns and hits me with wide, enraged eyes. “Don’t act like you know me. You don’t know anything!”
“Well then, please do enlighten me.” I cross my arms and wait for a revelation that will make sense of that moment we shared earlier when we went from two people staring at each other with carnal, fucking attraction to her metaphorically tossing a glass of wine in my face.
“I’m sober, you fucking eejit.” She pins me with a menacing glower. “For some time now. I haven’t had a proper drink since well…since London.”
I blink rapidly, completely pummeled by that very unexpected response. “But…at the bar tonight.”
“Anthony and I had a chat when I first arrived that I’d like to get alcohol-free drinks all night that looked like cocktails because telling people I’m sober isn’t exactly a fun party trick.”
My mind reels with this new information. “I had no idea.”
“It’s not something I broadcast.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “But it was necessary after I moved out of London.”
“I see,” I reply dumbly because I’m not sure what else to say.
“That lifestyle I was living here all those years ago was not good. I was out of control, and you were right there to witness me at my worst.”
A heaviness settles in my chest that I might have played any part in what happened to her. I wanted to help her in the end, but she wouldn’t let me.
However, it was too little too late at that point. I’m a terrible fucking person.
“I’m sorry.” The words are the only thing I can think to say.
Tilly looks up at me, her brows furrowed. “What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry I let that happen to you back then. I’m sorry I didn’t try to do more. Be a better friend.” The familiar guilt starts to build in the pit of my stomach, wishing still I could have done more.
“What?” she snaps, stepping towards me. “You didn’t let that happen to me. You weren’t even with me the night everything went sideways. I let it happen. I made the choice. You just had front row tickets to the show.”
“But I should have tried.”
“And you would have got a Glasgow Kiss of a headbutt from me if you would have.” She steps back and curls into herself. “No one could get through to me back then. I was making bad choice after bad choice, and I wouldn’t have changed because you wanted me to.” She exhales heavily and blinks back her emotions. I have to fist my hands to my side to resist the urge to touch her right now as she adds, “I needed to be scared straight back then so I could finally see what I was doing to myself.”
With a nod, I process what she’s just said, hating she likely associates me as one of her many bad choices. “And you want nothing to do with me because of that?” Damn me for still being intrigued by this woman even after she rejected me.
“Aye,” she replies, her chin quivering slightly as she avoids eye contact. “I don’t want to reacquaint myself with any of my old habits from my time in London. I’m sorry, but that definitely includes you.”
My nostrils flare at that very curt label of what we had together. I know it was just sex, but if I’m being honest, it clearly was turning into more for me. Or I wouldn’t have offered what I offered to her that night in her flat. I just never got a chance to tell her all of that.
Now it’s too late. Her mind is made up.
Silence descends between the two of us, and suddenly, the lift jolts and restarts its descent. We both look at each other, and then our eyes dart away because our bubble has been popped as reality crashes back around us.
My mind is reeling as I escort Tilly to the valet stand and wait for the driver to return with her car. She hit me with a lot of new information, and looking back at everything I said to her tonight, I feel like a complete arse.
When I open the door and watch her slide into the driver’s seat, I can’t stop my thoughts from spilling out. “I’m happy for your change, Tilly. I really am. You are incredibly strong, and you always have been, so it doesn’t surprise me in the least that you’re tackling this.”
“Thank you.” Her brows knit together as she lifts her eyes to mine. “I’m sorry if I was rude earlier. You didn’t deserve that.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry too.”
She offers me a soft smile and moves to close the door, but I stop her for one more second, dipping my head down to meet her eyes.
“But before you drive away, I need you to know you’re not the only one who’s changed.”
“Okay?” she says it like a question as her eyes dip to my mouth.
My voice is low and controlled when I add, “Maybe I’ll be able to show you more of that in the future.”
Her lips part in surprise as I step back and close the door, turning on my heel to walk away from Tilly Logan. But something deep in my gut tells me I’m not walking away for good. And frankly, if Tilly knew everything about me, then there’s no saying what she’d think of the person I am today.
I toss and turn in bed for a full hour with Tilly Logan at the top of my mind. How could I be thinking of anything else? Her confession in the lift shocked me, and I still can’t believe how wrong I was for thinking she was the same party girl I remembered her to be.
Five years ago, she would outdrink me at the clubs. I’ve never been a huge drinker. My nonno and nonna would always serve wine with dinner, but it was merely for food pairing, never to get drunk. I guess that act took away the allure of alcohol for me, so more often than not, I find myself sipping the same drink for hours at an event, just holding it to feel social.
Tilly was always on a mission, though. She and that group of friends she ran with all seemed to be in competition with one another to be the hottest, the drunkest, or the wildest. I’d usually seek Tilly out earlier in the evening to get her away from that lot before things got truly out of hand.
Now, to think of her sober and doing it on her own…it really shows me just how far she’s come from when she lived here before.
Five Years Ago
Santino: You dead?
Trouble: No, why?
Santino: I haven’t heard from you in three weeks.
Trouble: Don’t you have other girls to warm your bed?
Santino: You know I have a thing for the Scottish lassies. Are you free tonight? I could come to yours.