Whereas with me, he just seems to want to hurt me—over and over again.
Sighing, I go to put the photo back, but then something stops me. And then—I’m not sure exactly why—I find myself pulling my phone from my pocket and snapping a picture of the photo before putting it back where I found it.
Then, I shut the drawer, tuck my phone into my pocket, and continue on with my task of stripping the bed.
Twenty-Four
I’m home alone, curled up on the sofa with a glass of wine. The TV’s on, but I’m not really watching it.
Cece’s working late at the salon; she won’t be home until nine p.m.
Seriously, who gets their hair done that late?
Cece said she has lots of women who come in to get their hair done for a night out. I don’t know if I could be bothered. But I guess, if they have a man to get all dolled up for, it might be worth it.
I was supposed to be out with Cooper tonight for that drink, but I canceled. I was going to do the chicken thing—avoid him at work and just text him—but I knew it would be the coward’s way out, and he deserved better than that. I went down to the stables on my lunch break and told him that I couldn’t make it. At first, he thought I just couldn’t make it that night and offered to rearrange. So, I had to tell him the truth. Well, the closest version of the truth that I could give. I told him that I just didn’t think it was a good idea. That I had a lot going on right now, and that I was also still getting over my last relationship.
It wasn’t a total lie. I am still recovering from what Jason did to me—stealing eighteen months of my life and also the prior six months that I spent with him.
And, also, I need to get past these feelings that I have for Kas.
They’ve come on quick and strong and totally out of the blue, but they’re there.
It’s weird to me that I can have feelings for a guy who, half of the time, I have the strong urge to punch in the face.
I didn’t see Kas at all for the rest of the day yesterday. He stayed holed up in his office. The only reason I knew he was in there was because his car was still outside.
I might have checked.
But it was good that I didn’t see him, as I wasn’t in the mood for another argument. And, honestly, we don’t have anything to argue about anymore because whatever was going on between us is done.
I just don’t understand him. Why he’s like he is. I mean, I got the impression that he wanted me when he was kissing me—his erection spoke loud and clear—but then, the next minute, he was pushing me away and running, like his arse had just been lit on fire. At first, I thought it was because he thought I wasn’t good enough for him. But his emphatic reaction to that was genuine.
“I’m not good enough for you, Daisy. You deserve a good man, a better man…and that’s not me.”
He thinks he isn’t good enough for me. He thinks he isn’t a good man.
Why?
“I don’t know how to do this…relationships.”
Why can’t he do relationships?
My thoughts go back to that photograph. The photograph that I have in my phone.
It’s been bugging me all day. I just know this photograph is important to him. The fact that he keeps it in his nightstand drawer beside his bed tells me that.
And the curious part of me wants to know who she is to Kas. Why does he have a seven-year-old photograph of this girl in his nightstand?
Maybe he loved her. Maybe she broke his heart. Maybe she’s why he’s a head case when it comes to women.
But it’s not like I can ask him because then he’d know that I was snooping in his drawer. Technically, I wasn’t. I found it by mistake, but I know what he’d think.
And he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. He doesn’t tell me anything. He’s locked up so tight. I know nothing about him.
I only know his name and where he lives because I work for him. I know how he takes his coffee and that his best friend is Jude. Oh, and he has a horse called Danger, whom he rescued. But that’s it.
I don’t know when his birthday is. Or what his favorite food is. If he likes to read. If he has a favorite band he likes to listen to.
It’s so frustrating.
But I shouldn’t care because I’m done with him. So, it doesn’t matter.
Sure, you are, Daisy. That’s why you’re sitting here, thinking about him.
Ugh!
I hate that he’s gotten so easily under my skin.
I want answers from him, but I know I’m not going to get them, so I’ll find some out for myself.
Grabbing Cece’s laptop off the coffee table, I power it up. I open up Google and type in, Kastor Matis.
Not much comes up. Just the Matis Estate’s website but no photos of him. He doesn’t even have a Facebook profile.
But then again, neither do I.
I used to have one, but I shut it down after I was arrested. I didn’t want people writing anything unsavory on my wall.
I tap the keys, frustrated.
Then, I delete Kas’s name from the search box and type in, Haley Halliwell.
My screen fills with results. The top result is a clinical therapist.
Heart pumping, feeling like I’m doing something really wrong, I click on the link. The picture is of an older woman who looks to be in her fifties.
Definitely not her.
I back out and click on the Images tab. The screen fills with pictures. The first one is of that therapist woman. Then, sitting just below that is the picture I found in Kas’s drawer. The picture in my phone.
I grab my phone and pull the picture up, just to compare.
It’s definitely her.