I blink again.
Then scowl again as I gesture around my kitchen. Is it a sarcastic gesture to go with my sarcastic statement? Yup. Sure is. “I had work.”
He narrows his eyes. “Yes, clearly.” A breath, as though he’s trying to gather his patience…which does nothing but piss me off further. “But you could have woken me up and told me you were leaving,” he adds icily.
Maybe I should steal a page out of his book and take a breath, find my patience.
But his words have me snapping back. “Like you did with me?”
Anger arcing across his face. “That’s not the point.”
“What is? You coming here?” I grit out. “Because I know how that ends too.”
“Seriously?”
“What?” I scowl, pick up my knife, and go back to my onion…mostly so I won’t stab him. “I do.”
He falls quiet, but the air is tense.
“Why are you wearing a mask?” he eventually asks.
“So I don’t yak into my client’s food while I chop this fucking onion.”
More quiet, but this round is paired with a frown. “I thought you said the morning sickness was better.”
“It is.” I reach for another onion and keep dicing.
In fact, I hadn’t needed the ginger candy this morning—though whether that’s because I was so focused on my escape I didn’t have time to be sick, or because I’m truly through the worst of it, I don’t know.
Onions still make me want to?—
I gag.
Dammit.
Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back and breathe slow and steady.
“Here.”
I drop my chin down, see him holding out a candy.
Double dammit.
Why is he being sweet right now?
I need him to be an asshole.
“Thanks,” I mutter begrudgingly as I open the wrapper and pop the candy in my mouth. He’s quiet as I suck on it, as I wait for it to work its magic.
Only when I go back to chopping does he say, “I thought we were going to be friends.”
I still, but only for a moment. “Friends don’t do what we did last night.” What I wanted to do this morning. What I’m desperate to do even right now.
“You didn’t like it?” he asks quietly.
“You know I did.”
He sighs. “So why did you skip out this morning?”
