Page 39 of Then There Was You
She looks at me, but I can’t read her thoughts in the brief exchange. And damn do I want to. When she doesn’t say anything, he glares at me again, then comes at me with a handshake. “Gregory Lafoon.”
I don’t take the bait, not needing to explain jack shit to this guy, much less give him the courtesy of shaking his hand. Call me petty, I guess.
“Gregory,” she says, her hands going up as if to halt his progression. “I’ll be in soon. I need a few more minutes.”
His gaze flickers to me before he sets his sights on her again. “People are talking. It’s inappropriate for you to be out here alone with him.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. You have no say in what I do.”
“As your fiancé?—”
She balks, drawing my attention back to her, and when she tugs the ring from her finger, she snaps, “We’re not engaged.” Moving forward, she’s not tentative in her steps toward him like she was with me. She has nothing to lose with him . . .
She holds out her hand until he opens his palm to her. “I don’t want your ring or anything else with you, Gregory.”
His eyes slide to mine over her shoulder before he takes hold of her upper arm and leans in. Is he looking to die? Because he’s about to. If not by me, then by Sosie. Gritting his teeth, he lowers his voice as if there’s privacy on the streets of New York. “We’ve already talked about this. You said?—”
“The only agreement we ever made is the one you broke.” She pulls away from him, and although she’s not standing at my side, she’s standing on her own. That’s the Spark I remember.
He takes a step forward, but this time, I hum, “Uh-uh,” as a warning. He stops. His expression shuffles from offense to disbelief to irritation.
“What are you doing?” he asks her, his voice tipping into anger.
After she takes what appears to be a sobering breath, nerves don’t rattle her stance. “I’m getting my life back.” She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at him like it’s settled. I’m fairly certain the can has only just been opened, and there will be more to come, but I’m proud of her. I don’t know where this will lead, but I’m hoping I get to witness her reclaiming herself.
I exhale, causing both to look my way. “It’s not her birthday,” I say, his earlier comment still grating on my nerves.
The slightest of smiles tickles the corners of her mouth as she unfolds the defensiveness of her arms.
Pivoting his body toward mine, he tilts his head back as if I’d be intimidated by this soft-handed asshole. Starting shit with me is one thing, but treating Sosie with anything less than respect will be his biggest regret. “What do you know aboutmyfiancée’s birthday?” he asks, raising his voice.
What’s he so fucking threatened by? Me?Good.He should be. This is the kind of guy who would take it out on her behind closed doors. He has such a punchable fucking face . . . but I should tread more carefully for her sake. “I know that Christmas Eve isn’t her birthday. It’s interesting you don’t know that.”
His eyes flare into a full blaze of fury when he lands on Sosie again. “I expect you inside in five minutes before I handle this situation differently.” He storms back into the pub, taking out his little man’s anger on the door by yanking it open.
She stares at the back of him as if she can comprehend the warning. She glances at me, and there’s no lingering confusion in her eyes. She seems set on whatever she’s decided with that mischievous glint in her eyes. That’s the spirit—a bit wild, a little rebellious, and not taking anyone’s shit—I remember from years ago.
When it’s just the two of us again, feeling a lot like it’s us against the world, I ask, “What happens now?”
The light I remember, which made her eyes shine like gold, returns, and she shrugs. “I could eat. Are you hungry?”
That’s my Spark alright. “I am, but I need to do something first. You game?”
With a smile blooming across her beautiful face, she replies, “For anything.”
CHAPTER 17
SOSIE
Keats stops at the top of the stairs, pulling me up with him as if there was no way he’d leave me behind. Maybe my huffing and puffing behind him from dashing through the kitchen to avoid the other party, then racing up the stairs in heels, tipped him off that I might need assistance. Either way, I’ll take his hand, even if only offered as a sweet gesture.
Caught between two events that neither of us wants to be a part of, the dark hallway is quiet, isolated from the world, leaving us alone together, even if only for a few seconds. I lean against the wall with our hands still holding tight to each other. My breath comes fast, so I loosen the coat I’d snuggled around me to get more air into my lungs. My breathing doesn’t even with the gap between us tightening.
“We didn’t even say hello,” he whispers.
"No." I can only manage a half-hearted smile under the circumstances because a hello isn't what I missed about him. This closeness is. The heat from our proximity starts to consume me, and his musk brings back a trail of memories with it,reminding me of kissing him until my lips swelled. A hope I don't deserve rises like the sun, illuminating the horizon like a new beginning. “We didn’t.” The words are breathy, wanton for him in ways I shouldn’t feel, but I can’t pretend he doesn’t affect me. It’s not only my body that betrays me, but my soul longs for this man I’m not sure I’m allowed to have. With so much of our past controlled by others, what happens to us when we’re given back the power to decide?
Do we fall together or apart?
