AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Of course those two made the connection. My stomach knots. I was hoping I could pretend like I hadn’t met a sweet person who worked with Christopher, but alas.
“Everyone there is like him,” Christopher says. “Good people who care about good things. And they need updated professional photos. Everyone’s headshot is five years old. Hugh has a creepy-next-door-neighbor goatee and Nick has such a douchey hairstyle, I’m worried it’s hurting his client opportunities.”
My mouth twitches. That gleam in his eye deepens. I think, despite my best efforts to resist, I’m being a little charmed. “Nick’s hairstyle really is terrible.”
“Hey, take it easy on us Italian boys,” he says, taking on a thick accent I remember his dad using playfully when we were kids. “We got a lotta hair and no idea what to do with it.”
“Excuse me,” one of the women in the group says, raising her eyebrows at me. “Can we have some help already?”
I tear my gaze away from Christopher, then glance her way, gritting my teeth as I remind myself that being in a position of service is not demeaning, even if this group’s treating me like it is.
“Yes?” I ask.
One of the women opens her mouth, but before she can answer me, Sula strolls in from the back. “Hi, folks! How can I help you?”
She practically shoves me sideways into Christopher. “Take five, Kate,” she says warmly. “You haven’t had a break today.”
“Oh, that’s—”
“Perfect,” Christopher says, wrapping his hand around mine, dragging me toward the back of the store.
We’re halfway down the hallway when I tug my hand from his, before I can let myself enjoy the warmth and solidity of his grip. “Stop hauling me around like a bag of bagels.”
He spins, his coat swishing. “Kate, last night—”
“Please,” I whisper, trying and, I think, failing to hide how raw I feel from last night. I haven’t recovered from the whiplash when that tiny spark of hope soared through me as we kissed, then did a nosedive as he told me he regretted it, that he hadn’t meant something that meant a lot to me.
I can’t take that two days in a row.
“You’ve made yourself clear, Christopher. If you say you regret it or you’re sorry or you didn’t mean it one more time, I can promise you if you think you’ve seen a feral Kat, that’s nothing to what’s coming, sodropit.”
He stares at me, jaw tight. Then a rough, slow swallow works down his throat. “All right.”
My shoulders loosen with relief.
“So... will you do it?” he asks. “The company’s headshots?”
I stare up at him, still so... lost. Who is this man I’m seeing? Where are the biting words? The fast steps away, constantly putting distance between us? I search his eyes. “Why?”
A beat of silence, then he says, his voice quieter, “I told you, I want to fix things between us. At least... make them better.”
“Better?” I ask incredulously.
He rakes a hand through his hair. “I know we’ll never get alongeasily. But I want to find a way to at least get along. While you’re home. When we’re with friends and family. That’s what yesterdaywas about—the flowers, the food. And hiring you to do these photos. I thought they could be a reset, allow us to move on.”
Move on.
Two little words. Why do they sound so terrible? Why do they make me feel like I’ve been kicked when I’m already curled up on the ground?
Christopher’s eyes search mine, as if he senses how badly I’m spiraling. “Talk to me, Kate. What are you thinking?”
I don’t feel very rational right now. And I don’t know why. Because what Christopher is saying is the very thing I’ve told myself I wanted. For him not to be an asshole to me or pretend like I don’t exist. For him to smile that warm, charming smile that he smiles at everyone else. For him to fold me in like I’m just part of the group and not give me every special kind of hell for simply existing in the same space as him.
So why does it feel like my stomach is a giant knot? Why does the mere idea of Christopher treating me like everyone else make the coffee I gulped ten minutes ago crawl up my throat?
And what am I supposed to do with what he did yesterday? The flowers are explained but not the cryptic note, the unexpected kiss, or the even more unexpected words he said before he left.
As if anyone could not want you.
