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We both fall silent for a few moments that are surprisingly peaceful considering that just a couple of days ago we were icing each other out hard-core.
“What about you?” I ask. “Is there a lady becoming the next Mrs. Mulroney anytime soon?”
“Not soon, not ever.”
“Oh no,” I say in exasperation. “You’re not that guy. The one that thinks he’s never going to get married because his career only shows him the bad side of marriage.”
He looks at me again. “I am definitely that guy.”
“But you do date?”
“Sometimes.”
“What about Hailey?”
His brow furrows. “Your friend? What about her?”
“You should ask her out. She likes you. I saw you exchange numbers.”
Andrew takes a sip of his wine. “You did not.”
“I did.”
He leans back again. “You saw her give me her number. I didn’t give her mine.”
“Why not?”
He doesn’t answer, instead looking behind him. “Shall we start on the cleaning?”
I’m oddly disappointed by his lack of response, but I nod. “Yeah. I should probably get it over with. You don’t have to help.”
He’s already on his feet, extending a hand down to me. I know it’s just a gentlemanly gesture to help me up, but my stomach flutters a little all the same.
I give him a carefree smile as I place my palm in his, as though I’ve done this millions of times with millions of guys, which I sort of have.
But the feeling I get when my skin touches his is anything but routine. It’s…electric isn’t quite the right word; that’s too sharp.
It just feels…pivotal.
Get it together, Georgie.
He releases my hand the second I’m on my feet, and I think I see his hand clench as he drops his arm to his side.
“You didn’t go out tonight. With your friends,” he says.
I lift my eyebrows. “Obviously.”
He looks away. “So you won’t be out late tonight. Or early. Whatever you call it.”
“Correct.”
Andrew’s eyes flick back to mine. “I won’t be seeing you tomorrow morning.”
I laugh. “Well, since I’m not a robot like you who lives and dies by making it to the gym on time, no, probably not.”
The comment comes out sharper than I intend, and his eyes narrow. “There’s nothing wrong with how I live my life, Georgiana.”
The tiny emphasis on my has my teeth grinding. “Ah, of course. It’s my life that’s the mess, right? Because I don’t live and die by a schedule?”
