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I followed her, brow furrowed. “Anne,” I said, practicallybegged. “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” she said, almost like she was trying to convince herself. She dug through her purse, but slumped against the desk like she’d been hit with a wave of dizziness.
“Whoa,” I said, instantly at her side. I slid an arm around her waist, shifting her into me so I could support her weight.
“Sorry,” she said, closing her eyes as she allowed me to hold her. “I forgot to take my medication,” she explained, sucking in a deep breath and spinning in my arms to dig in her bag again. “And I haven’t eaten much today. I just forgot on both counts.”
“And that affects you?” I asked. I’d done a little research on her condition after she’d told me about it on Thanksgiving, but liver damage wasn’t my expertise.
“Sometimes,” she said, shrugging as she popped a couple of pills in her mouth, grabbing her water bottle from the table and taking a drink. “The doctor said it’s to be expected.” She shifted against me, trying to wave me off, but I gently held her in place.
“Anne,” I said, scanning the tired lines of her face. “Can I help you? Send me your med schedule and I’ll set reminders in my phone too. And I’ll make sure I have better snacks here for you.” We had a small coffee station with an array of packaged snacks, but none of them were likely what she needed, I was now realizing. I’d bring in fruits, veggies, and some healthy carbs tomorrow. I’d read that lowering the sodium intake was helpful with liver damage too.
She smiled, some light coming back to her eyes, like the simple act of taking the medication had cleared some fog laying over them. Moving her hands over my chest, her fingers lingered there, and I couldn’t stop my dick from jumping at the simple touch.
One week.
It had been a week since I’d tasted her, touched her, but it felt like a lifetime. We’d agreed on one night, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
“You’re a cinnamon roll,” she said, grinning up at me. “You know that?”
“Um…thank you?” I posed it like a question, not exactly sure if that was a good thing or not.
A light laugh escaped her lips. “It’s a compliment,” she explained. “You’re always so sweet, so thoughtful with me.”
“It’s instinct when it comes to you,” I said, and she drew a little closer.
Dangerous.
This was incredibly dangerous.
We’d managed to stay professional and safe with each other all week, but here, holding her like this, it made me want to break every boundary we’d silently put in place. We couldn’t keep doing this to each other—crashing together when we were inevitably meant to be torn apart.
Right?
Sure, this week had felt like a new normal edged with a hope for more, but that was me living in a fantasy world. Her family would never accept me, and she deserved a life where she didn’t have to constantly choose between her family and her partner. A life that didn’t involve fighting her father at every single turn when it came to me.
And she was still healing, working through so many different things it would be selfish of me to even ask her to consider fighting for me.
“Do you want to have dinner tonight?” she asked, just like she’d done two other times this week on the nights she wasn’t working at Lyla’s.
And every time I’d said no, trying to protect us both. Because I knew if I got my hands on her again, there would be no pulling us apart. No amount of hate from her father would be able to keep me away from her.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said, every word searing my chest as it came out. She was the best idea in the world, but me barging into her life and demanding she make space for me that she didn’t have? That wasn’t fair.
Her shoulders dropped, and she took a step out of where I’d still been holding her.
“Okay,” she said, gathering her bag. Her phone chimed in her purse, and she dug it out, swiping open a text. She turned the phone toward me.
Brad:Hungry? I’m free in twenty if you want to grab dinner.
Jealousy shot through my veins, clenching my muscles. They were friends, she’d told me that, but Brad had a coveted, respected spot in her family’s good graces, and I hated him for it on principle.
“Any reason I should tell him no?” she asked, clearly giving me another chance to change my mind. To tell her that the last thing I wanted was her spending time with him instead of me. To tell her that every time we went our separate ways this week it was all I could do to keep myself from texting her and begging her to come over.
I cleared my throat, and shook my head. “Have fun,” I said.
God, I was an asshole.
