Page 29 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

I can feel him beside me.

Too close. Too familiar.

“Well,” I say lightly, because silence is worse, “that was something.”

“Something,” he agrees.

We reach the door.

I turn to face him, and there it is again. That same charged stillness from the plane. Unresolved, unspoken, dangerous.

“About…” I start, then stop.

Nope.

Nope, we're not doing that.

“We’ll be in touch,” he says, cutting in smoothly, like he knows exactly where that sentence was going.

Of course he does.

He’s him.

“Right,” I say. “Of course. Professional. That’s great.”

I nod.

Too many times.

Stop nodding.

“Have a good day,” I add.

“You too, Miss Clarke.”

Miss Clarke.

Wow.

I turn and walk away before I say something catastrophically inappropriate.

Out of the building, into the street, into fresh air that feels significantly more breathable now that I'm no longer in the same room as my past mistakes.

I keep walking.

And walking, until…

“Okay,” I say out loud, stopping on the sidewalk, staring at absolutely nothing. “What the hell was that?”

Because seriously.

What the hellwasthat?

I just interviewed for a job with the man I had a one-night stand with. A man who's apparently a billionaire. With a child. And a dog. And control issues.

And eyes that look at me like he already knows everything I’m thinking, which is unacceptable.

I drag a hand down my face.