This is why she did what she did.
The happiness. The forever kind of love. That was everything.
And it might have been the reason she kept avoiding Josh throughout the evening. Just a tiny bit.
She’d caught glimpses of him a handful of times, making sure he wasn’t feeling abandoned, but this was Josh. As far as she could tell, he’d become the best friend of just about every person he talked to.
Still, even as he laughed and charmed his way through a roomful of strangers, he seemed to sense whenever her gaze was on him, and his eyes would seek out hers, locking onto them from across the crowded loft, following with a wink, or a chin lift, or even a small two-fingered wave.
Mine, she thought every time, without fail. He’s mine.
Damn. She was definitely going to have to figure out what to do about that. Tomorrow. She’d figure it out tomorrow.
Heather tilted her champagne glass to her lips, only to realize it was empty. She headed toward the makeshift bar for a refill, but her footsteps faltered when she sought Josh out in the crowd once more and saw him talking to a stunning brunette.
His hand was on the other woman’s back, his head bent down toward hers.
Heather’s fingers tightened on the glass. Just two seconds ago, she’d admired the way he could work a crowd, but this felt different. The way the woman looked at him was different, the way they stood close was different.
She felt jealousy, hot and stabbing, rush over her.
She knew then. The woman Josh was talking with was an ex-lover. It was written all over their body language.
Which . . . fine. She knew he’d slept with other women. Lots of them. It was just seeing one of them . . .
She closed her eyes and counted to five, but the suffocating misery didn’t fade.
Air.
Heather needed air.
She opened her eyes and stepped backward, only to back into a very firm, very close male body.
Josh. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. She knew his touch. His smell. His taste.
But she didn’t know him. Not really.
His hands closed around her elbows, but she jerked free and headed toward the exit.
“Heather.” She heard Josh call her name, but didn’t turn around.
He caught up with her just as she was about to punch the down button on the elevator.
His fingers wrapped gently around her elbow, pulling her back around. “Would you wait up a second? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes filled, and she tried to turn away again, but he reached for her other arm with his free hand, drawing her to him. “Heather.”
“That woman,” she said, her voice wobbling a little. Darn champagne. “Seeing her . . . seeing someone you’ve slept with. I mean, I know that’s who you are. It’s what you do. It’s just a reminder, you know? Of what I am to you. Which is nothing—”
She broke off, looking upward and blinking quickly, hoping to keep the tears at bay so they didn’t ruin her smoky makeup.
“Heather. I’m sleeping with you now. Only you.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “Since when?”
“A while,” he said quietly. “There’s been no one but you since I kissed you that day before your brunch.”
She didn’t believe him. She hated that she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t. Couldn’t.
“But I saw you,” she said. “That night when Trevor came to my place—I only did that because you were with that girl. Kitty.”
“For God’s sake, I didn’t sleep with Kitty. I thought you knew.” His eyes were dark green as he pulled her closer. “I was playing the same game as you, 4C. I wanted you to see me with her, but I didn’t want to be with her. And yes, I do actually hear what an ass that makes me,” he said sheepishly.
He frowned and searched her face. “I thought you knew,” he said again.
“How would I know that, Josh? You sleep with everyone.”
“Ouch, 4C.”
“It’s true. I mean, I’ve always known that about you, it’s just . . . that woman tonight.”
“Was looking for a repeat of last time we hooked up, yes. I’m not going to lie to you. So you’ll have to trust me when I told her I wasn’t interested. Okay?”