Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) by Tara Wyatt (electric book reader .TXT) 📗

took his hand from her hip. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Believe me when I say that I wish things were different.”

She lowered her head, pressing her lips together. Then she nodded and stepped back, giving him enough space to vacate her chair. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, her heart feeling as though it were shrinking in on itself. All of the hope she’d let herself feel ebbed away, like a sandcastle on a wavy shore, disappearing bit by bit with each breath.

“Me too,” she said softly, taking another step back and then turning to face the window, staring unfocused out at the glass and steel and brick and concrete surrounding her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her. At least that was something. But it didn’t change the fact that no matter how she felt about him, no matter how much she wanted him, he’d never be hers. She didn’t know how it was possible, but she felt like she kept losing him, over and over again and each time the loss was sharper and deeper than the time before.

I’m not the man you think I am.

What did that even mean? How could he just say something like that and expect her to roll with it, like that was a totally normal, not at all messed up thing to say?

She turned from the window to ask for answers, but he was already gone.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: What do you call a fake noodle?

BetaTestAccount23: Uh…I dunno.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: An im-pasta.

BetaTestAccount23: Oh, that’s bad. That’s really bad.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: What do you call a guy who never farts in public?

BetaTestAccount23: Polite?

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: A private tutor.

BetaTestAccount23: Okay, that was actually kind of funny.

FreshPrincessOfChelsea: