Billionaire Best Friend [Complete]

32. Gracie

My mother seemed all too pleased when I walked past them and led the way back to my bedroom. I didn't bother to address her belongings scattered around the apartment—her shoes, multiple sweaters, a tablet and computer, the way she plucked my favorite candle off the counter and put it on top of the refrigerator.

Jason walked into my room and stopped at the foot of the bed as I shut the door. I left my suitcase out in the entryway, but I tore my jacket off and tossed it on the bed.

"What are you doing here, Jason?"

His hands sunk into the pockets of his jeans. He wasn't wearing his usual get-up. The suit and tie he normally wore to work. Loose denim hung from his hips and a tight sweater hid the gray shirt he wore underneath it. His face was freshly shaved, and damn him, he looked just as good as he always did.

Hopeful green eyes sparkled as he answered me. "I wanted to be here when you got home."

"It's not a good time," I told him. "My mother is visiting and I don't need her running with her thoughts, thinking that we're something that we're not. I told you I'd talk to you when I got back but I need a day or two to settle in before you try to play house with my mother in town."

He winced and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, about that."

My eyes widened in accusation "What did you say to her?"

He held his hands up in surrender. "Nothing that would directly imply anything, but she may have filled in some of the blanks on her own already."

Judging by how chummy she was with him in the moment it took me to come in, notice them, and walk back here, I'd say he probably wasn't wrong.

I sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I don't need this right now, Jason." I rubbed my head. My ears were still cold from being outside. "You need to leave."

"I was hoping that'd be the last thing you said," he admitted, walking over to kneel before me. My heart was at war with itself, wanting to reach out and pretend the past didn't exist. How good it would feel to be wrapped in warm, loving arms instead of feeling ambushed by the two people that I struggled with the most at the moment.

His hands covered my knees, and ever so lightly, he smoothed them up my thighs. "Is this okay?" he whispered, continuing to massage my still-sore muscles after that last hike in St. Thomas.

I gave him a quiet nod. I was overwhelmed, and physical touch wasn't something I ran from. I liked when Jason was handsy with me. Well, when we were together, anyway.

I wasn't sure yet what to do now that I was face to face with him.

I was in love with this man. Hell, part of me still was, even though it was shadowed by his infidelity. As much as I tried ignoring it over the last couple of weeks, he held the broken pieces of my heart in the palms of his hands. Broken by him. Shattered by him.

While that thought kept turning over in my head, I couldn't help but think maybe I was being too hard on him. Maybe I wasn't taking responsibility for my part in the fucked up situation that happened. Why would he have been with some other woman if I had held up my end of things?

All over again, I found myself questioning my involvement in our relationship spiraling the shitter. I also didn't want it there at all. I wanted better for us. For me, for him. More for us than him cheating and me running out of his house without a word. More than me skipping town with my best friend because I didn't know how else to cope with the realization of it all.

I had no fucking clue what I was doing.

When Jason's hands moved up my legs, then transferred up to my arms, then found their way to my face, I waited for what would come next.