Page 112 of One Bossy Date

“Zoe, don’t be like this. You don’t need to leave now. For Christ’s sake, stay the night at least.”

He looked bewildered.

I’d never seen him this way. It hurt.

I had to get out of here as fast as I could.

“Look, Anders, whatever this is…was”—I gestured between us—“it won’t work out.” Against my efforts, tears swelled in my eyes. “You have your life to live, and I have mine.”

“No. Zoe, it doesn’t have to be this way.” He strode forward, trying to take my hands, but I moved back.

“Why? Because it should be your way?” Unfiltered, my anger rose out of my mouth, and I took a deep breath to push it back down. “The ruse is over. I’ve spoken to your mom and my gran. Everything has been settled, so, thank you for helping me, but there’s no reason for me to stay.”

“No reason at all?” he asked, hurt in his eyes.

Stupid tears spilled again, burning my eyes. I wanted to shout, wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him he was ruiningeverything. But I knew it would do no good. He’d given me his answer—he wouldn’t stay. Not even for me.

So, I shook my head. “I need to go. I think my cab is here.”

“Don’t go, Zoe.”

I picked up the suitcases but dropped them when I remembered something. “Oh, I meant to give you this earlier when you got home, but then…well, anyway.” I pulled a small, wrapped gift from my pocket and handed it to him. It was just a little something I had picked up. Not important anymore. A wooden keychain. I had painted it a bit to make it more unique, but I didn’t want to keep it. “It’s nothing big, just something small for Christmas.”

He took it without looking, keeping his eyes trained on my face.

I gave him a tight smile, then turned away and reached for the suitcases.

“Wait,” he said, and I paused, looking back at him. He swallowed, staring at me intently. He closed his eyes, sighing. “Let me carry those.”

He bent down and took the two suitcases. I was glad he didn’t continue to argue, but my chest seared with pain at the realization that he wouldn’t. He followed me down, set the suitcases in the trunk of the cab, and stood back, appearing defeated.

As the driver pulled away, I turned around to look out the back window.

Anders was standing on the road, watching me drive away.

It was horrible to glimpse him standing there, getting smaller as the car drove off. My heart ached so much. He walked several steps after me, then he stopped, running his hand through his hair.

He seemed to swear to the sky, then watched as I disappeared around a corner.

That’s when I let myself cry.

A lot.

37

ANDERS

If you aren’t honest, it’ll come back and bite you in the ass.

And it did.

The image of Zoe getting into that cab and driving off stung like a motherfucker. I replayed the scene constantly—the cab drew farther and farther away, and I noticed her turn around to watch me out the back window.

What had she been thinking?

Everything I’d been working toward felt different now that she’d left.

How could she not understand that we’d be good together? South America was beautiful, and she’d probably have had a great time there. She would’ve been on constant holiday. Or, if she really wanted to keep her business going, there were tons of stray cats and dogs there. I’d have opened a fucking non-profit organization for her. Hundreds, if she’d wanted me to. These were things I should’ve discussed with her over time and let her warm up to the idea.