A sharp knock echoed through the apartment.
There was no way I’d reach the door before Millie. She’d probably been standing there for the last five minutes, waiting for him to arrive.
Pressing my hand to my stomach to calm the wild flapping of tiny butterfly wings in my belly, I took a deep breath and headed to the front.
As suspected, my girl had already opened the door and ushered Tristan inside.
Onelook at the man and my brain malfunctioned. As hot as the ripped jeans and sneakers were, the combo wasn’t responsible for my slack jaw and inability to drag air to my lungs.
Oh no, it was the light gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows that had my heart almost leaping from my chest. And it was the veins on his forearms that popped so freaking deliciously that had my mouth watering.
And don’t even get me started on his dark, wet hair defiantly flopping over his right eye.
The man was way too hot for his own damn good. It wasn’t fair.
Men like him should only have been allowed to exist in fairy tales or books. At least there they could have the appealandthe values someone like me craved.
And since I needed a minute, or possibly ten, to get the craziness inside my body under control, I stayed back and watched them for a bit.
Millie was as excited as ever. Jumping on the spot, her mouth moved at the speed of light. She talked so fast; I only caught a few words here and there.
And Tristan?
That big, imposing man just stood there with a goofy expression on his face and his full attention on my little bug.
My skin stretched tight. My heart beat way too fast. And my silly ovaries celebrated.
Oh yeah, I thought solemnly,this was a terrible idea, indeed.
Chapter sixteen
Tristan
Iwas married.
Had the ring—hidden in my pocket—and the piece of paper to prove it. Only problem, I hadn’t seen my wife in five days.
In that time, I’d learned a few things.
One, absence and distance didn’t do shit to calm the racing thoughts about Kate.
Two, I missed her. Might’ve been impossible to wrap my head around that fact, but it didn’t make it any less true. Wanting to text or call her, I’d spent more time looking at my phone than I had paying attention to the changes Mr. Fitzgerald had wanted me to make.
He’d noticed too. But since I was so fucking good at my job, the man hadn’t made a big deal about it. Simply said he’d hoped I’d sort out whatever had been bugging me.
No chance of that.
Unless a lobotomy could remove Kate from my brain completely. Either that or I crossed the invisible line she’d drawn and finally fed my curiosity.
I was quite partial to the second option. I’d thought about giving her a call when I got back from my run earlier. She was faster, and fuck, if that phone conversation hadn’t been exactly what I’d craved all week.
The way her breath caught. The sweet melodious sound of her voice… It was music to my ears. Like giving an addict his hit.
I was painfully aware of how fast and deep I was falling.
“...and we do that every weekend.”
I had no idea how so many words could come out of such a tiny mouth so damn fast. Or how the heck I managed to keep up with her detailed explanation of dance parties, seven Korean guys, and making pancakes from scratch.
