She slams a folder down on the table. “I am over it.”

“You don’t look or act like you are.”

She shifts her posture, propping a hand on her hip. “Everything isn’t always about you, you know. Shittier things have happened to me than hooking up with you. Not many, but a few.”

Ouch. “So you’re just in a bad mood in general? It has nothing to do with Cora or me?”

She snorts. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, the world does not revolve around you and that little bitch whose pants you’re trying to get into. Word of advice? Get some new moves.”

“So we’re cool?”

“Cool isn’t the word I’d use, but rest assured I don’t give a shit what you do or don’t do.” She puts a pen at each person’s place. “Or I should say who you do or don’t do.”

I start to leave, then turn back. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?”

She doesn’t answer for a moment. It’s like she’s been put on pause. “Unless you can cure cancer, no.” She goes back to laying out the materials for Dad’s meeting.

I’m debating what to say or do next when I hear a sniff. Oh, damn. She’s crying. She turns to the window and tries to hide that she’s swiping at tears. I don’t know what to do. I’m shit when it comes to stuff like this. My instinct is to leave and let her be, but it seems my feet don’t agree.

I put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

She turns in to my chest and lets loose, gripping fists of my shirt and sobbing. Fuuuuuuck. I awkwardly put my arms around her and pat her back. The door opens behind us. I don’t even have to turn around to know who it is. Fucking shit, fuck, fuck.

Cora.

The door closes again, harder than normal. Goddamn it. I want to pry Savannah’s fingers off me and run after Cora.

Instead, I ask, “Who has cancer?”

“My m-m-mom. Stage four.”

I don’t know anything about cancer except that the higher the number, the worse it is. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. She’s still holding on to me, so I put my arms around her for real and hold her. I am an ass for thinking her bad mood was all about me. “I’m sorry,” I say again, for an entirely different reason.

She knocks my chest with her fist. “Stop saying that. You make me sound pitiful.”

“You’re not pitiful.”

She pulls away a little and gives me a wobbly smile. “And you’re not a total asshole.”

“Thanks.” I smile at her. “I think.”

“I should get back to work.” She steps out of my hold and swipes at her tears, wiping her hands off on her pants.

“Is there anything we can do?” I grab a box of tissues and hand it to her. “Does my dad know?”

She pulls out a wad and blots her face. “No, I haven’t really told anybody. When I try to, I just start crying.”

“Do you want me to tell him?”

“Yeah, could you? I have to go to the doctor with her next week. I don’t want to have to explain. But just him. I don’t want everybody in the office looking at me and feeling sorry for me.”

“Sure.” I back toward the door. “Will do.”

“Thanks for, you know…” She motions with the tissues.

“Sure. Any time. I really am sorry about your mom.”

“I know. Thanks.”

I give her a half-wave and go off to find Cora, hoping I’m not totally screwed.

Chapter 15 Cora

I’m not jealous. I’m not. It’s not like there’s anything going on between Leo and me. I mean, there is or there was, but it’s not like we’re exclusive. I don’t know what we are exactly. Okay, no. That’s bullshit. There is something between us. I just don’t know what it is or—more importantly—what it is to Leo. I’m not even sure I know what it is, so how can I expect him to know or to act like he knows? Ugh.

Okay, I am jealous. He had his arms around Savannah. They were in a room with the door closed like they wanted privacy. I don’t know what to make of that except that there’s still something between them. And if there’s still something between them, then there is going to be absolutely nothing between him and me. There. Decision made. Moving on. Except…

Leo walks into our office and closes the door. I don’t look up. Whatever. I have more important things to do, things I should’ve been concentrating on instead of wasting time going on dates with someone who clearly doesn’t know what or whom he wants. Let me make that decision for him—not me.

“It’s not what it looked like in there,” he says.

“Okay.” I can feel his stare boring into the side of my head.

“Okay?”

I don’t answer. I really don’t want this drama in my life. I have enough going on with the phone call I just made to my mother and with my brother sitting in prison.

He leans against my desk next to me. “She was…I can’t tell you what she was, but it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Um, o-kaaayyy.” This guy really needs to get off my desk and get his ass back to his own. We have work to do.

“Cora.”

I don’t look up. He can fuck off with his explanations.

He kneels down next to my chair. “Cora, look at me.”

Sighing, I slam my pen down and look at him. “What?”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. She was—”

“Yes, I know. You can’t tell me what she was, but it wasn’t what it looked like. Got it. Can we get back to work now? My mom gave me a phone number for that PI.”

“I was comforting her. She’s been going through something—”

“Really. I get it. Can we move on?”

“She was crying.” He holds out the front of his shirt, which has some wet spots on it. “See?”

“Sure.”

“I couldn’t just walk out of the room and leave her that way.”

“Of course not.”

“Cora, look at me.” He turns my chair and plants his hands on the arms, trapping me and forcing my gaze back at him. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Oh, my God, if you say that one more time I’m going to punch you. I’ve got it already.”

He laughs. “God, you’re so pretty when you’re pissed.”

“Then I must be gorgeous right now, because you’re annoying the hell out of me.”

He leans in for a kiss, but I turn my head. “Hey.” Grasping my chin, he brings my face around to his. “You really are mad about Savannah and me. I swear I was just comforting her. She’s going through something bad. That’s why she’s been in such a terrible mood.”

“I’m not pissed at you, okay?”

“Then what is it?”

I’m mad at myself for allowing things to get this far—far enough that I care what he does or doesn’t do with another chick. I hate that I was actually jealous of that bitch. And I hate that I’m relieved it wasn’t what it looked like. But I don’t tell him any of that. I have enough crazy going against me that I don’t need to advertise my insecurities.

“It’s my mom,” I say instead. “She drives me insane.” And that is the bald truth.

“So we’re good?”

“I don’t know what the hell we are, but good probably about covers it.”

“Yeah, about that.” He kisses me, catching me off guard.

I can smell Savannah’s perfume on him and it makes me want to gag. I push him away.

“Hey.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb, a worried line between his brows. “I thought we were okay.”

“You reek of perfume. It’s like kissing Savannah.”

He tugs on his shirt and takes a whiff. “Yeah, I wouldn’t like it if I kissed you and you smelled like another guy. I’ll change my shirt. This one’s all wet, anyway.”

He pulls his shirt off in that way guys do—from the back of his neck, over his head, and off. My gaze latches on to him like I’ve never seen a guy without a shirt as he goes to his desk, opens a drawer, and pulls out a new one. I can’t stop staring. It’s not like I’ve never seen a shirtless guy. I have a brother, for God’s sake. But for some reason Leo without a shirt makes my nipples leap to attention like an arctic breeze just blew through here. Too soon he’s tugging on the new shirt and the view is gone. Damn.