again her eyes met his, her stare like a slap. “I told Lizzie you were nothing special. That you were like all the rest, just out for a good time. She thought you were different. She thought you actually cared.”
“We had a two-week thing.”
“You messed her up, Forte,” Carmela said, turning her back on him now. “If you have any decency in you at all, you need to go see her.”
The woman’s parting had him right back in hell, longing for what he couldn’t have.
When Carmela asked if she could take Stella with her to run errands Saturday morning, Lizzie didn’t think twice. Her friend had taken ownership of the baby like a second parent, was as fiercely protective as any parent would be and was happier just having Stella around. She also knew that sometimes Lizzie needed a little alone time at home.
Time to clean her bathroom, in preparation for maybe taking a bubble bath afterward. Time to pay bills, or answer emails, without having an ear to the monitor and a fifty-fifty chance of being interrupted.
Time to answer the door when the bell rang just fifteen minutes after Carmela had left. She only had an hour or so, was in sweats and the T-shirt she’d pulled on to clean, and wasn’t happy about the interruption.
Scouring pad in hand, blowing upward to move the stray hairs that had fallen from the clip holding up the knot on the top of her head, she looked through the peephole. And froze.
Tremors struck the hand that had automatically reached for the knob. Nolan was staring right at her and she had to remind herself that he couldn’t see her.
But, oh, God, she could see him. That thick dark brown hair that had a tendency to curl just a bit, the jaw that really did jut with strength, the little bit of stubble. If she closed her eyes, which she was doing, she could still feel the rasp of his face against her skin.
Her lids shot open. He was still there. In black jeans and a red plaid button-down shirt visible through the open front of his leather jacket.
Her knees felt like she should sit down. The rest of her hummed with a peculiar energy she’d only ever felt once before in her life. For two weeks the year before.
The warm look in his dark brown gaze made her feel like he was focused right on her. Made her wish he was.
No.
She turned away. There was no law that said she had to open her door just because someone rang the bell. No way for him to know she was in there.
Carmela had taken her car. It had been easier than moving the car seat.
Car seat!
Nolan knew where she lived.
He was in town for two weeks.
Chances were if he wanted to see her—and he must since he was outside her door—then he’d come back if she didn’t answer.
And when he did come back, chances were also good that if he found Lizzie home, Stella would be there, too.
She had to get rid of him now.
Nolan stood outside Lizzie’s door, wanting this over and done with. Standing outside the door of his greatest temptation was not how he’d envisioned spending his Saturday morning. Carmela had said that she’d make sure Lizzie was home. And that she would not be. She was giving them time alone.
Why, he had no idea.
You messed her up, Forte. Carmela’s words the night before had been haunting him ever since.
Open the damn door, Lizzie. Let me see what I did.
So he could fix it and move on.
He was over her. He knew that much.
But he had spent the night trying to envision the damage he might have done. He’d never meant to hurt her. The whole point of leaving it like it had ended was so that neither of them would get hurt. Or resentful. It had been an incredible two weeks. A Christmas fantasy, as she’d once termed it. He’d wanted it to stay that way. For both of them. Instead, he’d messed her up?
How?
She’d graduated. Had a job. She wouldn’t have gotten into drugs or alcohol. Not over a two-week romance. Not over him. The girl had survived the loss of her parents.
She was perfectly capable and comfortable with being alone in the world. Which was far more than he could ever see himself doing. The thought of not having his huge family in the background of his days was worse than any nightmare he’d ever had.
It was part of the reason he’d had to leave Lizzie behind. He couldn’t be Nolan Forte full-time. His family needed Nolan Fortune. A capable, responsible Nolan Fortune, not a guy who was letting something unreliable inside of him drive actions that would point his life in an unsuccessful direction. Not a guy who’d repeat his own mistake by getting involved with someone completely outside their world.
His family wasn’t the only entity that needed Nolan Fortune intact. He did, too. He was already less respected, being the baby boy of the family. He had to try harder, reach success faster, if he ever hoped to be an equal to his three older brothers.
He knocked a second time, hoping that maybe Carmela was wrong. Lizzie wasn’t there. Or messed up, either.
A click sounded on the lock. The knob turned. As if in slow motion Nolan registered the door opening, not breathing as he waited to see her.
“Nolan. Wow. It’s been a long time.”
He backed up a couple of steps as the woman who’d been haunting him for an entire year slid outside, pulling the door closed but not latched behind herself, so that she could push back inside at any second.
She looked...divine. Perfect. His Lizzie, completely real, scouring pad and all. She did her own cleaning, twice a week, he remembered. He’d tried to help, but she’d kept shooing him away so mostly he’d watched. He’d gotten away with wiping the bathroom mirror. The sooner they’d got the bathroom clean, the sooner they’d be together in the garden-size tub...
He was hard. On fire. Having to consciously restrain himself from reaching out to her with both arms.
“Carmela said I messed you up.” If he’d been anywhere near the vicinity of his right mind he’d never have spoken the words aloud.
The thought occurred to him that they could be in on this together. Messing with him. For whatever unknown reason.
The Lizzie he’d known would never have done that. But then, that was the whole point, wasn’t it? He’d only known her for two weeks. The same amount of time Austin had known his wife before he’d married her. And Kelly had turned out to be a gold-digging, divorced, in-debt daughter of jailed con artists, not the debutante she’d presented to him.
He’d never have thought Molly would turn on him, either, taking her brother’s side.
“Carmela?”
