Page 79 of If We Were Young

“I don’t get you.” I covered my face with my hand, screwing my eyes shut. So sticky and yuck, gah. He didn’t need to see this. “I thought Saturday night we’d kind of got somewhere.” I was such a child; I talked into my palm. “I guess my evaluation of the theory came out different to your conclusion.”

Fingers tugged against mine, but I still didn’t open my eyes. “Is that what you think?” His low voice licked through me.

“You’ve been a complete arsehole all day.”

“I know.” He almost whispered as he leant down to my ear. “I have real issues with jealousy. And I’m sorry.”

I opened one eye again and found him leant down close. I could smell his skin, the hint of fresh air still hanging around his coat.

“What are you talking about?”

“You.” He swallowed hard like the words were a challenge. “This morning when I came into the office your staff were having a lovely little jolly sitting around with their coffees and talking about how they would get you dating again. Tinder was mentioned, then the one with the red lips started saying how you were still so in love with Paul and that no one else would ever match up to him so maybe you’d stay a widow forever.”

What the hell?

“And then that Fred, with the skinny jeans, said that he would find a way to wake you up.”

“He’s a child.”

“Ronnie, he really isn’t.”

I held in my responsive gag.

“But why are you angry?”

I watched his face carefully. “I hate the thought of you being in love with anyone, even your dead husband.”

My heart clanged like it had received a shock directly from electricity.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I didn’t say it was logical.”

We stared at one another; my heart began to beat faster.

“I’m sorry I’ve been rude all day.”

I shrugged. “Obnoxious.”

“Will you come and have dinner with me?”

As if on cue the train jerked as it left the platform. There was no getting off now. I didn’t even know what the next station was. This was a one-way ride into the unknown. Matthew’s world. His world I’d never been in before.

“I don’t much feel like sitting out in public and making small talk, Matthew. I’ve got a headache, and honestly, I’m done in. There are only so many arguments I can have in one day.”

“Hannah?”

“And Ma.”

“Hannah is like you, I think.” He still stood near my bunk, leaning against it, his face thoughtful.

“I’m sorry about her thinking she knew you. She likes to go on about things.”

He hesitated, his beautiful mouth parted a whisper. God, I wanted to kiss those lips. I wouldn’t though.

Kissing hurt.

This thing with Matthew hurt. It always hurt.