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Mine to Take (Southern Weddings #5)(44)

Author:Natasha Madison

“You need to calm down and get a hold of yourself!” I shout at myself, walking into the kitchen and grabbing the bottle of sweet tea. “One shot and then you just need to chill out. This is going to be fine.” I unscrew the top off the bottle and take a swig of the tea, and it burns all the way down for a second. “There, now, just relax and stay professional,” I tell myself, feeling my cheeks starting to get hot. I put my palms on them and they feel like they are on fire. “What if he thinks you’re getting all hot and bothered because he’s coming here?!” I shriek, running over to the sink and turning on the cold water. Wetting my hands, I place them on my cheeks, I’m not even done with the first cheek when the doorbell rings. My head flies to the side as I think about not answering it for one second, and it is as if he can hear my thoughts.

“I’m already outside, so you can’t pretend you aren’t there,” he says, and I glare, “and I’m blocking you in.”

The only think I can think of is, “Asshole.”

matthew

I ring the doorbell, my hands shaking. I look down at my shoes and then look up again, not hearing anything from the other side of the door. I look back to the driveway where I parked my car right behind hers. “I’m already outside, so you can’t pretend you aren’t there,” I say loudly to the door, knowing she is debating whether or not to answer it, “and I’m blocking you in.” She tried to cancel this about fifteen times in the span of a ten-minute conversation. “I’ll just sit out here on your stoop and eat,” I announce to the door and then hear the lock turn. My heart is hammering so hard in my chest, the second I hear the noise I wonder if she will be able to hear it.

The door swings open and I see her and my heart slows down right away, knowing she’s right here. “I was in the bathroom,” she says. “Come in.” She moves aside and I walk inside, going straight to the hallway.

“Figured I owed you dinner,” I say to her as she closes the door and walks to stand in front of me. “And maybe an apology,” I try to joke with her, but from the look she gives me, it falls flat.

“Maybe?” she huffs. “Maybe?” She walks over to the door and opens it up. “Get out.” She points outside.

“Okay, fine,” I cave. “I definitely owe you an apology,” I say softly. “I owe you a lot more than that.”

She closes the door and folds her arms over her chest. “Go on.” She doesn’t move from in front of the door.

I knew we would be doing this, but I thought for sure it would be while we were eating. I put the food down beside me, just in case she does kick me out of her house, at least she is going to eat. “Wow, so we are doing this right away,” I start, looking at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asks, her eyes going into slits. I wish she would give me an option to talk, but I’ve riled her up and she’s ready to go to war with me. I can see it in her eyes that are so dark now, and all I want to do is hold her face and kiss her until her eyes are light again. I also know from the look she is giving me, if I do that, she is going to shoot me in the ass and then the foot.

“For fucking everything,” I finally admit.

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head. “You wanted this little chat. You are going to get a little chat. Let’s start with you not calling me to cancel the plans.”

I close my eyes, not wanting to do this, but knowing I have no choice. I brought this on myself and it’s time to face the music. “But instead of calling me and, you know, cancelling, you made me worry that you were hurt somewhere.” I just watch her because she’s right. I’m about to tell her this but she holds up her hand. “So what do you do? You come home and I’m annoyed because you aren’t on the side of the road bleeding out?” I am about to laugh but I roll my lips. “Not only are you not bleeding out, you’re drunk as a fucking skunk. And what do you do, Matty?” She cocks her head to the side and folds her arms over her chest. Her chest is rising and falling as if she ran a marathon.

I hold up my hand. “You want to do this; you call me by my name. To you I’m Matthew,” I remind her, “and I know what I did. I fucked up in ways that I can’t even explain.” I finally start talking, the words coming out like word vomit. “I fucking fucked up so freaking hard that there are no words I can say that can make it forgivable. You have to know, Sofia, it was the booze talking.”

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