Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) by Tara Wyatt (interesting books to read txt) 📕

“Fuck!” he ground out, shoving away from his desk.

Willa. He had to get to Willa. If he could explain before she saw it, maybe…He clenched and unclenched his fists, panic tightening around his lungs like a vise. He stood and strode toward the door, anger and desperation and fear clawing at him.

“Get legal on this,” he barked at Ravi. “This is libel and I want that article retracted immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ravi, inclining his head. “Right away.”

Max strode down the hall, the entire workspace going silent as he passed, every pair of eyes glued to him. But he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting to Willa.

When he got to her office, it was empty, even though they’d come in together this morning. Her Starbucks cup was still sitting on her desk, seemingly untouched. He paced between her desk and the door, hoping, praying that maybe she’d just gone to the bathroom. He raked a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to sort through the emotions slamming through him. Tried to organize his racing thoughts.

When she didn’t reappear after a few minutes, he stepped out into the hallway, almost colliding with Chris, one of the senior engineers who worked closely with her. “Have you seen Willa?” he asked, his voice coming out louder and harder than he’d intended.

Chris glanced around and then said quietly, “She left.”

Sweat prickled along Max’s hairline as he nodded and headed back toward his office, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He dialed Willa. It went straight to voice mail.

He tried again and again, but when it went to voice mail for the third time in a row, he resigned himself to leaving a message. “Angel, we need to talk. Call me or text me to tell me where you are. Please.”

Then he texted her the same thing, waiting with his heart in his throat for her to respond. He kept glancing at his phone as he spoke with the head of the legal department, as he spoke with Ravi about the necessary crisis PR moves. Finally, about fifteen minutes later, his phone buzzed with a text from Willa.

Willa: I’m at home. You’re right. We do need to talk. Please come over if you’re free.

Max: I’ll be right there.

He grabbed his keys and booked it to the building’s underground parking garage, cursing Manhattan traffic as he fought his way north from Tribeca to Midtown. By the time he got to Willa’s block and found parking, nearly forty minutes had passed since her text. He stepped into Theo’s building, trying to calm the storm of panic and fear inside himself, nodded at the doorman and saw himself up to Willa’s floor. Standing in front of the door, he took a breath, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time.

He knocked and she opened the door almost immediately, her pretty hazel eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, guilt gnawing at him like a rabid animal. Without a word, she stood aside, leaving room for him to enter. The door closed quietly behind him, sealing them away from the world.

He could fix this. He had to.

Willa sat down on the sectional sofa in the living room, curling into the corner, her arms wrapped around herself. He sank down onto the couch a couple of feet away from her, giving her some space, his hands clasped between his legs.

“Is it true?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “Is any of it true?”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I’m not a murderer, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She scoffed. “I know that, Max. I know you didn’t fucking kill someone. But the rest of the story, not about Tapp but about you and Sophia and…” She trailed off, swallowing thickly. “Is it true?”

He looked up, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “Yes. The parts about me and Sophia are true.”

Her face crumpled and fresh tears slid down her cheeks. He felt paralyzed. He didn’t know what to do or what to say.

“I’m so sorry, Willa.”

She bit her lip and looked away, shaking her head. “You lied to me.”

His chest was so tight with guilt that he struggled to take a deep breath. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“Because I knew that it would change things between us.” He sighed, his arms vibrating with the need to hold her. But he didn’t reach for her. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Were you? Or were you trying to protect yourself?”

“I—”

“Did you think we could just be together and you could never tell me about this? This is a huge trauma, Max. One that clearly still affects you, given how you pushed me away when we first slept together. How am I supposed to be in a relationship with someone who can’t give me openness and honesty?” She looked away again, shifting on the couch as she reached for the nearby box of tissues. She blew her nose and then crumpled the tissue in her hand. “I was completely vulnerable with you, right from the start. I told you that I wanted to be with you. I fought for you. I gave you the chance to prove yourself to me after the way you’d hurt me. I told you everything—about my childhood, my cancer, my past relationships. Everything.” She shook her head. “I asked you for openness and honesty, and you said you’d do that. That you’d give me that. But here I am, reading about the biggest things that ever happened to you in the fucking New York Times.” She blew out a breath, shaking her head slowly. “You were more open and honest with me when we talked on the app. When you thought I was a stranger. You were more vulnerable with FreshPrincess than you’ve been with me.”

He wanted to tell her that wasn’t true, but