Home > Love Like Her (Against All Odds #3)(45)

Love Like Her (Against All Odds #3)(45)
Author: Claudia Y. Burgoa

The answer comes so easily. She’s more than love. She’s everything I always needed.

“Listen, I understand she needs time. I respect that, but I need an address, please.”

She looks at me. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid?”

“I swear.”

She scribbles something on a napkin and hands it over to me.

“Sorry for ruining the night,” I apologize to everyone and hand my credit card to Nate. “Dinner is on me. I have to go.”

 

 

Since I can’t find any place open that sells cronuts, I buy a half dozen cupcakes, a grilled cheese sandwich, and chicken noodle soup. I park in front of her house. It’s funny that she lives close to me. I leave the stuff in front of the door, knock, and leave.

Once I’m in my car, I text her.

Eros: I’m sorry for today.

I throw the phone in the console, start the car, and drive away. Five minutes later, I arrive home. Misty calls.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, can we talk?”

Honestly, I don’t want to talk to her. She has no idea what she did today. It probably wasn’t her. It was me. I’ve handled my life too loosely. My love life is a disaster—also my fault. My feelings toward Misty are an excuse to keep everyone away from me. Persy is right. Olivia is mine. I’ve been hers for a long time.

“I’m listening.”

“In person,” she clarifies.

I sigh. “It’s been a long-ass day. Can it wait?”

“No. Can I come and see you?”

“Why don’t we FaceTime?”

She mumbles something, and my phone rings, asking to FaceTime with Misty. I accept, and her face appears.

“You’ve been in this weird mood today. What’s happening?”

“Is this why you need to talk to me?”

She shakes her head.

She sighs. “Listen, Richard and I have been talking. As I told you earlier, we’re trying to patch things up.”

“I’m glad, but are you sure that’s what you want to do?” I ask, not because I’m interested in her.

Fuck, all it took is for Olivia to step back into my life for me to come to my senses. This is it. We’re going to stop living in some alternate reality. I’ll convince her that we belong together. That I need her in my life—forever. We’re soulmates. The reason we met is because she’s always been part of my life. Because my heart has always been hers.

“Yes. I do, because I love him.”

“Then, I’m happy for you two.”

“But here’s the thing. He feels threatened by our friendship. I don’t think we should see—”

I chuckle because I know where this is going. “You are breaking up with me.”

“Not necessarily.”

I smile and ask, “It’s yes, but you don’t want to do it. What do you want me to say?”

“I… I don’t know. We’ve been friends for eighteen years. It’s going to be hard not to have you in my life, but it makes sense. I thought that maybe someday we’d end up together. He knows it,” she whispers the last three words.

“But we were meant to be just friends. A friend once told me that people come into your life for a reason. Maybe I came to yours so you could meet Richard.”

Her eyes look watery. This is pretty messed up, but I really understand his request. “Well, I just wanted you to know why—”

“It’s all good.”

“Can I ask you something? Did you ever think of me as more than a friend?”

Persy and Nyx were on point too. I was feeling lonely. All because Liv was too far.

“If we had gotten together, it’d have been because we felt alone and not because of love,” I respond.

“This is what I like about you, your honesty. Can you tell me about Olivia, the wedding planner?”

“What about her?”

“She’s someone special to you,” she states. “Isn’t she?”

I nod and say, “Take care, Misty.”

“You too, Eros.”

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Five

 

 

Olivia

 

 

The doorbell rings. When I check the camera, I see Eros bending over and then walking away. I wait for a couple of seconds before opening the door. A small white box and a takeout bag lay on the doorstep. I’m tempted to ignore them. I don’t. I pick them up, curious about what he left. I set them on the dining table, staring at them for several minutes.

Opening them feels like I’m accepting his apology. I don’t know if I want to see him ever again. But then, I miss him so much. I decide to open the bag first. There’s an item wrapped in tinfoil with a post-it on top.

I’m sure this isn’t as good as the ones you prepare. Have I ever told you grilled cheese sandwiches are my favorite? They remind me of you.

Eros

P.S. I’m not a big fan of chicken noodle soup, but I added it because they always go together.

The only times I’ve cried as an adult were when Dad had a heart attack and Mom was going through surgery and chemotherapy. Who knew that a sandwich would make me sob just as much? There are too many emotions spinning through my heart and my head. Love comes easy for me. Loving one person and not knowing what to expect is scary. Maybe it’s one of the reasons why I never wanted to discuss anything serious with Eros.

So what if he doesn’t love Misty? That doesn’t mean much. I can’t continue hoping that we’ll see each other and then lose him again. Not that he’s mine to lose in the first place. When I open the white box, there’s an assortment of cupcakes. The note is on the lid.

I couldn’t find cronuts. The best I could come up with were cupcakes. I’ll drop off some cronuts tomorrow morning.

E.

P.S. It’s never goodbye between us.

“Then what is it, Eros Brassard? You never stay!”

I hate to cry. These aren’t sad tears. They are angry, frustrated, enraged tears. I’m confused by how I feel. Why didn’t I realize that I love him? When did I give him my heart? I bet he doesn’t even care about it. According to Eros, I’m still the same stupid kid he saved at the airport.

“They call me ‘airport girl!’”

His stupid text means nothing to me. He’s sorry? Sorry about what?

I call Holly. How dare she give him my address? It wasn’t enough that I told her to stop introducing me to the entire male population in Denver. She gave him my address.

“I thought we were friends,” I say as soon as she answers.

“Hi to you too.”

“First, you’re setting me up—after I told you to stop doing that. Then, you give him my address.”

“I did?”

“Don’t claim ignorance. He just made a food delivery,” I argue, biting into one of the cupcakes he left.

“How do you know it wasn’t Calvin? I could’ve asked him to bring you food.”

“Holly, I love you, but right now I’m about to pack my things and leave. Unless you have a good explanation,” I threaten her.

“I didn’t know he was with you when your dad had a heart attack or when your mom was going through chemo,” she says, instead of justifying her behavior.

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