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Shuffling from leg to leg, I didn’t know what to do.
I wanted to sit down because my feet were killing me. Working eight hours on my feet, waiting tables for drunk millionaires was taxing, to say the least. So, when my shift was over, I generally rushed home and soaked in a hot bath before climbing into bed. Only I didn’t see that happening tonight.
Eyeing the stool near the counter, I wanted to sit, but didn’t. He hadn’t invited me to, and it was rude to do so without an invitation. Instead, I stayed right where I was and tried to ignore the ache in my lower back and my throbbing feet.
He growled, “Sit down before you fall down, Tessa.”
Quickly moving over to one of the high-back chairs that lined the marble island, I sat and moaned in instant relief. “Thank you.”
“We need to talk.”
“Worst conversation starter ever, ‘we need to talk’.”
“Don’t get lippy with me, Tessa. I’m not in the mood.”
“Fine. What do we need to talk about?”
“For starters, tell me why you left?”
“Why do I get the feeling you already know?” I replied, looking down at the water bottle I had yet to open. Twirling it in my hands, I waited for his response. I knew I was right. He wouldn’t have shown up unless he knew everything already. Which explained him knowing about York. I wasn’t stupid, and I was in no mood to play games with him tonight. I was exhausted, hungry and desperately wanted to sleep.
“I want to hear it from your own lips.”
Stubborn asshole.
I fucking knew I wasn’t leaving this kitchen until I told him everything he wanted to know. Every boring, insignificant, heartbreaking detail. The good and all the bad. He was going to make me relive my worst moments in the last few years until he had his fill. When I finally finished, I looked down at the three empty bottles of water that now sat before me.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“Nope,” I muttered, popping the ‘p,’ for emphasis. “You were clear on the rules. I broke them when I left without a word. Knew you’d never talk to me again, so I didn’t bother even trying.”
“Yet you reached out to Barney.”
“I wasn’t going to, but I needed a job.”
“Who is watching, my son?”
“My friend Tia. We grew up together.”
“Where?”
“She bought a penthouse near Central Park West. We’ve been living with her.”
“Where?” he growled, stepping away from the counter. Flinching, I quickly spouted off the address as he typed something into his cellphone.
“Is he mine?”
I narrowed my eyes at the bastard.
“What the fuck are you insinuating, Montana?”
“Is he mine!”
“Yes, you egotistical bastard. He’s yours.” As soon as the words left my mouth, a light flickered in his steel-gray eyes, then vanished. Leaning back against the counter, he stated the obvious. “You were on the shot.”
“Yes, I was.”
“I always wrapped up.”
