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But I’m not ready to let her go yet. “Chaplin!” I cry out before she can slam the door in my face.
She leans down and peers in at me like I’m a specimen. “Yes?”
“Why’d you kiss me?” I ask.
“Why’dyoukissme?” she retorts, stone-faced.
Does she want a list? I could alphabetize it if I knew where to start. “I mean, why did you kiss me if you don’t want to kiss me again?”
“That’s not what I said.”
My blood is starting to boil just enough to get me to huff in frustration. “Youknowwhat I mean.”
“I said that it’s a conflict of interest. Has nothing to do with wanting to do anything.”
“Then if it’s a conflict of interest,why did you kiss me, Constance?”
Her name. It slipped out.
Constance doesn’t react, doesn’t receive the blow like a dart to the forehead.
An apology begins to form on my lips.
“Research, Rory.”
I open my mouth. Wordless.
“Now, goodnight. You better drive away before my father thinks the Russians are coming,” Constance says.
She slams the door and rushes inside, not offering me a look in parting that I can take on the road.
I turn off my high beams and grunt to myself in frustration.
Constance Chaplin is the most maddening woman I’ve ever met.
And for some insane reason, she happens to be the woman I want most in the world.
Nowthat’sa conflict of interest.
15
Constance
“One rooibos for my favorite customer,” Kate says, sliding my tea across the counter.
“Are you busy? You want to chat for a bit?” I ask my friend.
Kate freezes. I can almost actually hear a record scratch. “Youwant to chat?”
“Only if you’re not busy,” I say, taking a look around the café. It’s a Saturday morning, which means it’s a little busier than usual, but a tea café in a small town never has a line too far out the door.
“Con, youneverwant to chat.”
My lips bend down momentarily. “I don’t?”
“Never,” Kate says, a smile growing on her face.
Huh. I guess I don’t. I didn’t used to have anything to talk about. Life was color by number. Rote.
