Problematic Summer Romance (Not in Love, #2)(84)

“I’m in love with you, Conor.” The words slip out thick, watery, and I hate it. “So please, say that, instead of this whatever-you’re-feeling bullshit. At the very least do me the favor of acknowledging my words.”

An exhale. A ragged one. “I know you think that you are in love with me, but if you give it time, it will run its course. And the kindest thing I can do for you at the moment is to free you from me.”

He used the word kind. And I want to take it from him and use it to stab him. “And what about you, Conor? Will it run its course for you, too?”

A terrible silence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That’s where my hope dies. Something selfish and dark swells within me—something murderous and cutting and vengeful, at the knowledge that he trusts himself and me so little, he’s not going to let us have this. He’s going to take it away. And he’s not even going to admit that he…

The anger is high up in my throat. And it always leads down the same path. “Conor.”

“Yes, Maya.”

“Genuinely, from the bottom of my heart…Fuck off.”

I hang up.

We don’t talk for the following ten months.





2 days before the wedding





Chapter 36




Present day

Taormina, Italy

Conor opens his door a few minutes past midnight.

“When I arrived, and you brought my luggage upstairs…Did you choose the room that was the farthest away from yours for me?”

“You know I did.”

I grin and walk inside, brushing past him. He’s ready for bed: his hair is tousled and damp at the edges, as though he just washed his face. He wears only low-slung thin sweats that look really nice on him, and I wonder if they were purchased by the same person who keeps him in suits.

I put on what Nyota referred to as my very slutty short pj set—intentionally. “A valiant effort,” I commend him, sitting on the sill of his open window. No Etna from here, but he really does have a stunning view of the pool.

“If ultimately useless.”

“Miscalculated, huh?”

He exhales a laugh. “With you, I always do.” He closes the door, walks to the center of the room, and I have to grit my teeth at how incredibly…Conor he is. One of a kind. My kind. “Maya, it’s been a long day.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m tired. Not at my best.” It’s the same even-keeled tone he uses when he’s trying to rationally talk Kaede into not eating a crayon.

“That’s fine. I’m sure that Conor Harkness’s not best in bed is still better than most guys’ superlatives.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“No? What do you mean?”

A displeased pause. “It’s not a good idea. Us, alone. It’s difficult to control myself.”

I shrug. Feel the tips of my hair bounce around my waist. It’s usually too heavy and messy to leave loose, but Conor likes it. I know it even though he never said so. “Is that why you’ve been visibly turned on since I entered the room?”

He swears under his breath.

“I don’t mind. I mean, it’s not like you can hide it.”

“Maya—”

“I’m tired, too.” I give him my most sunshine smile. “Let’s just sleep. Can I stay here?”

“You don’t want to be anywhere near me.”

“Why?”

“Because, Maya, I just got off a phone call with Tamryn’s lawyer and I’m going to have to tell her that my shithead siblings refused the settlement offer, because my closest friend’s wedding is a shitshow, and because none of my fucking quants have given me a satisfactory response on a fucking simple question that—”

“It’s okay,” I say, moving into him. I press the flat of my palms right under the jut of his ribs for balance, rise on the tip of my toes, and kiss the stubbly corner of his jaw. “Rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I’m halfway to the door when his hand closes around my wrist. The veins on his forearms are in sharp relief. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

His jaw shifts. “Where are you going?”

“Mount Etna, I was thinking. Heard it’s lovely there, this time of the year. Come on, Conor, I’m going to my room. Where do you think I…” Oh. But of course. “I won’t call up the guy.”

He seems to be grinding his teeth.

“I told you, I have no interest in…” I shake my head. “Listen, I thought you’d just spent the afternoon making sweet life-affirming love to Avery. And then you were trying to tell me what I couldn’t do, and…I just wanted to get a reaction from you. Not-Hans is here on vacation with his girlfriend. He just pretended to flirt with me.”

“He didn’t.”

“Pretty sure. I was there.”

“Maya, he wasn’t pretending. I guarantee you that every boy your age wants you. Men my age want you. Wherever you go, every-fucking-body is looking at you.”

I laugh, because he’s a lunatic. I love it. “Say they do? I don’t care. Not-Hans is not my type. He’s at least two decades away from a colonoscopy.”