Too Late to Love Me

Nigel Jackman stood in the entryway with a slight frown, looking like he was waiting for me to start a fight with him like I always did.

He had every reason to expect one. For the past 20 years, whenever another woman got too close to him, I made a huge scene.

And today of all days, he had finally picked up his Porsche Panamera.

I'd spent three months living on boxed mac and cheese with him and helped him put together more business proposals than I could count. In the end, I helped him land the big project that paid enough for him to buy the car outright.

But the second he got the keys, he let Ruby Barnett take the passenger seat and left me standing outside the pizzeria by myself.

"You really don't mind?"

Nigel slipped off his shoes, put on his house slippers, and walked over to study my face.

I kept my head down, folding clothes into my suitcase without even looking at him.

"Not at all. Ms. Barnett's pretty delicate. Of course you should take extra care of her."

Nigel's frown deepened. Before I could finish folding the sweater, he reached over and pressed his hand over mine.

"Sasha, don't use that sarcastic tone with me. Ruby isn't just a clean freak. She has severe asthma, and the smell from that pizzeria of yours clings to you. It's strong enough to trigger an attack.

"If you're mad about what happened, I'll take you shopping tomorrow and get you that bag you've been wanting. Okay?"

That bag?

I looked at his handsome face and the impatience written all over it, and suddenly, the whole thing seemed almost funny.

I'd had my eye on that bag since last month, but I'd held off on buying it because I was saving up for a gift to celebrate his new car.

Meanwhile, the first time Nigel met Ruby, he gave her a custom necklace worth over 100,000 dollars.

"No thanks. I don't need a bag."

I gently pulled my hand free and tucked the last sweater into my suitcase. Only then did Nigel notice the luggage on the floor.

His expression hardened. "Sasha Tenney, what now? Are you seriously packing up and leaving again?"

He only called me by my full name when he was getting angry.

"Every time I don't give you exactly what you want, you pack your bags and run back to the old place like it's the end of the world. You're 25, Sasha. Can you please act like an adult?"

I zipped up the suitcase, stood, and met his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm just taking some clothes to the dry cleaner now that the seasons are changing."

Nigel paused. He tugged at his tie, still irritated, but his voice softened again.

"Fine. I was wrong today. I shouldn't have left you out in the rain. My stomach's been hurting all day, so make me some toast with two fried eggs."

He said it like it was a given, completely sure I'd feel sorry for him and head straight for the kitchen.

But when I looked at the hand pressed against his stomach, all I could think about was what had happened that afternoon.