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He twists around to glance behind him, and I follow his eyes. Both of our grandmothers are peeking at us through the doorway.
Ugh. Could they be any more nosey?
I get that they’re at the age where it’s socially acceptable for them to no longer have a filter. But do theyhave tomake it awkward for the rest of us?
His eyes swing back to me. “We do. But not here.”
I blow out a breath, shaking my head. “Yeah, not here. I’m supposed to be at work right now, so not now, either.”
“I understand.” The soft look in his eyes as he searches my face makes me want to curl up in his arms.
But that’s not the kind of woman I am. I’m strong. I’m stronger than this.
We continue to stare at each other in this hallway that smells of dirty sneakers and bleach. For once, I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say to my accidental husband. The easy banter that flowed between us a few nights ago at the gala is gone. The playful bickering I’ve come to expect between us is non existent today. The energy between us is just so awkward now. His guard is up and so is mine.
I hate it.
All of those little whispers in the back of my mind that were trying to say that things could be different with Harry suddenly evaporate. I was right all along. Even when a guy seems genuinely interested in me, sooner or later, it always goes sour. Italwaysdoes. Why should it be any different just because Harry and I got drunk and made some questionable late-night decisions?
“I’m free tomorrow night. Can we meet for dinner?” Harry suggests, and I’m pretty sure I detect a trace of hope in his voice.
“Yeah. Let’s do that,” I respond, my tone neutral. Unbothered.
“Okay, I’ll text you.”
I purse my lips. “I’m not sure I can trust you to text me like you say you will. After you spent the past how many days avoiding me.”
He gives me a sad, sheepish grin. There, underneath the awkwardness and the guilt, I can see Harry’s usual charm peeking through. I stare into those dark chocolate eyes, trying to not let myself get lost in them.
When he reaches for my hand, I feel a cascade of warm emotions roll through my tummy.
That worries me. A lot.
“Iwilltext you, Nadia. I promise.”
I have to fight like hell to keep his vulnerable stare from breaking through my walls.
I’m not doing this whole ‘love thing’ with Harry Westbrook. I’m not doing it. I’m not doing it. I refuse.
I reclaim my hand and straighten my spine. “Okay. Fine.”
26
HARRY
“You need to go shopping, Mom. Have you considered one of those grocery subscription services? I’ll set that up for you.” I grab an unopened box of crackers out of her cupboard. Then I fish out a jar of peanut butter and drop back down at the kitchen table.
“No, you won’t. I don’t need that fancy stuff. It’s a waste of money.” My mother comes into the kitchen with a freshly-changed Sparkle in her arms. “Isn’t it?” she coos to her granddaughter. “Isn’t it a waste of money, Sparks?”
I came over here hoping to take Mom out for dinner. As a way to get my mind off of Nadia. But apparently Jasper and Emma had already recruited Mom to be their babysitter. I’m guessing Emma’s book deadline is getting closer. Isodon’t want to know what shenanigans my brother and his wife are up to tonight.
So anyway, here I am, crashing at Mom’s house and binge-eating everything I can find in a feeble attempt to bury my feelings.
I’m freaking the fuck out about sitting down and talking with Nadia tomorrow night. I’m starting to rethink the whole dinner idea.
Yes, I promised to stop avoiding her. But I was hoping to have my shit figured out by the time I’d actually have to sit across from her and have a conversation. I’m coming up empty-handed on ideas for how to convince Nadia not to push for a quickie divorce.
“Harry! Don’t eat those!” Mom scolds.
