“Why do I feel like there’s a symbolism aimed at me?” he mutters.
I sigh. “Don’t panic. I never said I was any good at them.”
He leans over the table, the scent of his warm skin blanketing me as he reaches across me, so close that his breath falls onto my bare shoulder in my vest. My nipples spring to attention as he picks up a straight-edged piece I’ve missed and slots it into place against the few pieces I’ve managed to put together.
“Show off.” I snort.
The long wooden bench creaks as he sits beside me. I swallow, hating the way my stomach flutters as the top of his arm brushes mine.
“I should apologize,” he says in a husky voice.
“For what? You broke my bed, not my heart.”
His tight expression gives nothing away as he keeps his attention fixed on the jigsaw.
“Do you still love him?”
His question catches me off guard and I swing my eyes to his. Warm brown the color of sweet chocolate is waiting for me. But the sight makes my stomach sink. I’d take ice cold blue over it any day. The brown’s just another lie.
“Who? Callum?”
“That his name?” His lips thin into a grimace as he reaches for a jigsaw piece and presses it into place.
“Yeah.”
“Callum what?”
“Huntington. I would have been Mrs. Huntington.”
“Huntington,” he repeats in a low voice like the name tastes vile.
“But I’m not. Instead, I’m here sitting beside a man who won’t tell me his real name, yet asks me for other people’s. What are you going to do? Look Callum up?” I snort.
“If I did, he wouldn’t be walking away after.”
His attention is fixed on the jigsaw like he didn’t just say something that, although threatening, is burning with a sexy, fiery possession.
Like I’m his to protect and defend.
“Callum knows it’s over. He knew before I left. Everyone else will too once I get home.”
“What do you mean, when you get home?”
I shrug. “No one knows I caught him cheating. Not even my parents. They think I’m a runaway bride who got the jitters.”
“You didn’t tell them?”
I wince. “Not yet. I was embarrassed I didn’t know and that I was a fool for not suspecting anything. The girl he was with was supposed to be my friend. She even stayed with us last year after she broke up with her ex. Callum was the one who kept asking when she was going to move out. Looking back, I think that’s when it started, and he was either feeling guilty or worried I’d find out.”
“Asshole,” he mutters.
“I returned his ring and walked out. I didn’t think about our guests and what to tell them. I just… I couldn’t process it all. Cal told everyone I’d gotten sick and that the wedding was just postponed. I guess he wanted to save face in front of our guests. But he’ll have to admit the truth once I get back.”
Woody’s fingers curl into a fist on top of the table.
“What’s your family like?” I ask, knowing I won’t get an answer but trying anyway.
“Gone,” he replies, which is more information than I expected him to offer.
