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She drops the hands from her mouth and goes back to the finger pointing. “You left that house; your parents sold it. It was gone and done.”
“I was happy there,” I say simply. “It’s where I want to raise my daughter.”
Marissa glares at me, but not in a shocked, oh-my-gosh-you-have-a-child way—more as if she’s angry she has no comeback. Did she already know I have a daughter? Has she kept tabs on me?
I smile.
“You find this funny?”
I shrug. “More interesting than funny. Have you been asking around about me?”
Her mouth falls open, but she immediately closes it.
Oh, she’s glowering, but she isn’t denying it.
I tilt my head. “Is there anything else you want to yell at me about?”
Marissa purses her lips and studies me with a death glare. Still, all I can think about is how beautiful her sea-green eyes are. How it’d take nothing for me to get lost swimming in them forever. Her gaze is heated enough to make my skin prickle when it locks with mine. I hold it.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she finally asks.
I’m taken aback by the accusation I’m doing anything to her. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
She throws a hand in the air. “You moved back home; you bought that house. You’re here. At this clinic. You were gone for sixteen years and now you’re everywhere.”
I stare at her, my heart beating faster in my chest. Is she upset because I’m back or is there something more to it?
“Why?” she demands.
I shake my head. “For my daughter. I wanted her to live near my parents. I need their help. And I love the house I grew up in. I swear you weren’t a factor in my decision-making process.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back.
Marissa startles, rearing as if I’d physically pushed her.
The lobby falls silent. She stares at me with an unreadable expression, and I regret not saying something less inflammatory. But when I try to amend my statement, she interrupts me. “Save it. You’ve said enough.”
“No, I haven’t. What I meant to say is that I didn’t come back specifically to haunt you. Me working at this clinic is just a weird coincidence. And me buying the old house is not a personal slight to you, I swear. I’m a very different man from the boy you knew so long ago.”
“Is that supposed to be a good thing?”
I’m spared having to answer by Amada coming back from the restroom and joining our circle. “Ready to go, boss?”
Before I can reply, Carla clears her throat behind us, breaking the still-tense moment, and calls, “Miss Mayer.”
My ex seems too intent on glaring at me to hear her.
“Marissa Mayer,” Carla repeats, stepping forward. “Dr. Townsend is ready to see you.”
Just as Marissa notices Carla, Amada gasps.
Everyone’s attention shifts to my research associate as she exclaims, “Marissa!” My protégé gives me the stink eye, finally understanding why I’ve asked her to go on a vending-machine break fifteen times in the past fifteen minutes until she agreed to accompany me. “Is this your high school sweetheart?”
“I’m not his sweet anything,” Marissa spits. “Excuse me, who are you?”
“I’m his lab research partner.”
Marissa scoffs. “Poor you.”
