Kitabı oku: «From Heiress To Mum», sayfa 2
‘How did it go?’ she asked quietly. ‘When she told you.’
He stared at her for a moment, then picked up his coffee.
‘I...struggled.’
‘So you were perfectly stoic, but freaking out inside.’
His mouth lifted. ‘Pretty much.’
‘You don’t think she’s lying?’
‘No.’
The answer was quick and immediate, his voice hard. He was defending the woman, Autumn realised, though she didn’t understand why the woman needed defending. She was only asking a question. But then, this was Hunter. Protecting what was his. And the woman was his now.
Her stomach twisted.
‘She has no reason to lie,’ he continued. ‘And she showed me a picture. He looks...exactly like Janie did when she was a baby.’
‘Oh.’
It was all she said; it was all the pain allowed her to say. All the other words that came to mind were selfish.
We could have had a child who looked like Janie. We could have done this together, and you wouldn’t have had to ask for help.
‘Is he sick?’ she asked.
The cup he’d lifted crashed against the table as he set it back down. ‘I... I don’t know.’
‘You didn’t ask?’
‘No.’
‘Hunter, why the hell wouldn’t you ask if your baby was sick?’
He didn’t answer her, only looked stricken. Her heart softened, though she refused to allow herself to show it. Beneath the softness was a pain she hadn’t known she could feel.
He’d told her it was probably good he wouldn’t have children when he was a carrier of the CF gene. There were zero chances then that he’d pass it down—the disease or the gene. Now she was supposed to believe he’d forgotten about it?
‘She would have told me if he was sick,’ he said.
Autumn set her mug down, her own fingers trembling too much for her to hold it.
‘How would she have known? Newborns aren’t tested for CF here unless it’s specifically requested. What?’ she asked defensively when he looked at her. ‘I did the research.’
She continued so neither of them would dwell on why she’d done it.
‘Besides, Hunter, what do you know about this woman?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘You met her twice. Once the night you two had sex, and tonight. Now she’s asking you to take care of your child?’
‘It’s fair,’ he said in a back-off voice.
‘Of course it’s fair,’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘But you don’t know her. You have no idea what she would have told you.’ She paused. Saw his face. Sat back slowly. ‘You’ve already realised that.’ There was barely a second before she said, ‘And you know you didn’t ask because you don’t want to know whether he’s sick.’
Time passed. Seconds, minutes, she wasn’t sure.
‘You’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘But I’ll find out tomorrow.’
Tired now, she sighed. ‘What’s happening tomorrow?’
‘She’s dropping him off.’ He picked up his coffee again, brought it to his mouth. When he was done, he looked her dead in the eye. ‘Be there with me.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE SITUATION REMINDED him of his father.
Calvin Lee had expected Hunter to fill in where he’d lacked with Janie. Hunter knew it because his father would call him whenever he was expected to care for Janie on his own. Now, Hunter could see himself doing the same to Autumn. Treating her with that same selfishness. But he couldn’t stop. Was urged forward by something he didn’t understand.
‘Hunter,’ she said quietly, ‘I can’t see what either of us could possibly gain from me being there with you.’
Hunter thought about the hug she’d given him when he’d first arrived. He remembered the steadiness of her gaze, despite the news he’d told her. He could hear the concern in her voice, and, beneath it, a strength he desperately needed.
That was why he was here. He’d known she’d offer comfort, steadiness, strength. Because she was his friend. She cared about him. Even though he’d broken her heart by being unable to say yes to the family she wanted. Even though he’d seen some of the light in her eyes go out that day.
It had been part of what had spurred him to the bar the next night.
Her casual talks of a future and a family had forced him to face memories he’d been running from. Of him curling up to Janie as their parents argued in loud whispers outside Janie’s door. Of distracting her when the arguments turned louder. Of almost being relieved that she hadn’t been there any more when the arguments graduated into shouting.
And then, of the silence.
He couldn’t imagine putting a kid through it. Through what Janie had suffered with her illness. Through what he’d suffered with his parents’ marriage. Through what it felt like to have the possibility of carrying the cystic fibrosis gene hover like a noose around their necks. Or through having to make the hardest decision in his life about having a family because of it.
Now he was being forced to imagine it. He was being forced to face the fears.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, over his face.
‘I need you there,’ he rasped, shame straining his voice. ‘I don’t know if I can do it.’
‘Of course you can,’ she said. ‘You took care of Janie.’
The feeling he couldn’t explain swelled, compelling him to beg.
‘Please.’
The skin around her eyes crinkled in tension. She gave a curt nod. ‘Fine. If it’s that important to you, I’ll go.’
‘Thank you.’
He wanted to tell her she shouldn’t have agreed. That she was being too nice to him; that he didn’t deserve it. Neither did she. She deserved more than her ex-boyfriend and pseudo-friend asking this from her.
He left it at thank you.
‘She obviously knew your name if she knew how to find you,’ Autumn noted slowly, almost carefully after a bit. ‘Or did you...?’ She cleared her throat. ‘Did you go back to your place?’
Heat curled around his neck. ‘We, er, introduced ourselves when we met.’ He didn’t answer her question.
‘So she knows your surname, too?’
He angled his head, trying to remember. The entire event was a little hazy. Another great example he’d set for his son.
His son.
‘I think so.’
‘Okay, then. So she looked you up on the Internet—’
‘How do you know that?’
She gave him a look. ‘If some guy I had a one-night stand with knocked me up and I knew his name, you can be sure I’d do an Internet search on him before finding him.’
His mug stopped halfway to his mouth and he just stared at her, his mind playing her words over and over again.
‘If some guy I had a one-night stand with knocked me up...’
Purposefully, and much too violently, he brought the coffee to his lips, swallowing down the hiss when the still-hot liquid burnt his throat. But he relished the pain, since he deserved it for the criminal thoughts he’d had at Autumn falling pregnant with someone else’s baby.
Selfish, selfish, selfish.
‘Hunter?’ she asked with a frown. ‘Did you hear anything I said?’
‘About the Internet search?’
She nodded.
‘Yes. I probably should have thought about that.’
She studied him over her mug. ‘I imagine you were...too surprised to think.’
‘An understatement.’
‘That bad?’
‘It was fine,’ he denied. Her eyebrow lifted. ‘Shocking. It was shocking.’
‘Enough for you to want to avoid the gene issue.’
He gritted his teeth, guilt flaring in his gut.
‘Yes.’
‘Enough for you not to realise what comes up when you do an Internet search for Hunter Lee.’
He didn’t get what she was talking about for the longest moment, and then he shook his head.
‘You don’t mean—’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Afraid so.’
And he thought the situation couldn’t get worse.
‘Oh, no,’ he groaned. ‘She’s seen me...’ He couldn’t finish the words.
‘It wasn’t that bad,’ she said kindly.
‘You have to say that,’ he said, his jaw tightening, ‘because you’re the reason it’s there.’
‘Maybe,’ she allowed. ‘Or maybe it’s there because you were having fun—’
‘And you filmed it.’
‘It was a social media challenge. I was supposed to film it.’
‘I did it for you.’
‘I appreciated it.’
‘You utilised it.’
‘A self-made billionaire doing a ridiculous dance for a social media challenge in my bakery?’ She snorted. ‘Damn right I filmed it. And look how amazingly it turned out.’
‘For you,’ he muttered darkly.
‘I only used it to promote the bakery. I didn’t sell your body parts on the black market.’
‘It went viral.’
‘Technically,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘I didn’t film it. Mandy did.’
‘Yeah. We’re no longer friends.’’
Autumn snorted again. ‘Yeah, you two looked real enemy-like when you were bribing her to make you some cupcakes last month.’
He lifted a shoulder now, refusing to be taunted any further.
‘And besides the ridiculous dance, you actually did something sweet, too.’ Her eyes were happy. ‘You took me into your arms, spun me around, dipped me right under a wedding cake and laughed.’
‘You used that on your social media as part of a #BakeryBoyfriend campaign,’ he accused.
‘An icon was born.’
She grinned at him, and—damn it—his lips twitched. How could he resist that smile? The way it softened her eyes, lit up her face. The way it widened her full pink lips, and made her look years younger than she was.
It was enough to distract him from the fact that he was smiling. It felt like a feat. Hell, it was a feat. He didn’t think he could feel anything other than the pure panic that had fuelled his actions until he’d started speaking with her. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It had always been part of what had drawn him to Autumn, the way she made him feel. The way she made him forget.
When he’d met her at the wedding of one of his employees—which Ted had forced him to attend—he’d carried an anchor around with him. That anchor had tied itself to his ankle when he’d been six and his sister had been born with cystic fibrosis. It had grown heavier with each of his parents’ arguments. With each disappointing prognosis from Janie’s doctors.
When Janie had died, he’d just about sunk into the depths of the ocean from that anchor’s weight. It had felt as if he’d been living under water from that moment forward.
Then he’d met Autumn, and he’d felt as if he’d been given air for the first time in almost two decades. Which was why he’d allowed their relationship to go on for longer than he should have. After a year of dating, she’d brought up their future together. The year that had followed had been a slow decline into the realisation that he couldn’t have what he wanted with Autumn.
And he’d sunk right back into the ocean, reaching the floor of it when they broke up. He could almost understand why he’d looked for a lifeline in a random woman one night.
Not that it had worked. But it had brought him here again. With her. Predictably, he felt as if he was breathing again.
‘The reason I bring it up,’ Autumn said after a moment, ‘is because she’ll recognise me.’
His mind took some time to follow. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘We’re friends.’
‘Do you think she’s going to believe that?’
‘She won’t care.’
Her eyes had gone serious, and didn’t waver from his. ‘How sure are you about that?’
He searched her face. Saw what she needed to hear. ‘One hundred per cent. There’s nothing there beside this connection. The child.’
My son.
She didn’t reply immediately.
‘We’ll see.’
‘Autumn—’
‘No, Hunter,’ she interrupted with a tight smile. ‘It’s fine. If you think this isn’t going to be a problem, then I’ll help you get settled with the baby.’
For how long? He didn’t ask it. She was giving him something here. Because of it, he felt stronger. More in control. Not like every force in the world had turned on him. So he would give her something, too.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow with the details.’
‘Fine.’
‘And I’ll leave.’ He stood, then stilled when she shook her head. ‘What?’
‘It’s after midnight. You’re physically and emotionally drained. You can’t leave.’
His heart thumped. ‘What’s the alternative?’
‘You stay here. In the spare bedroom,’ she said wryly, when his mouth curved. He’d been planning on teasing her—heaven only knew why—and she’d caught him in it.
Instead, he said, ‘I don’t have to do that.’
‘Yes, you do. I’m not interested in getting phone calls about your death.’ Now she stood, picked up the tray. ‘Down the passage, third door to the left.’ Her eyes met his. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘WAS THAT—? DID I see Hunter’s car leave as I drove in?’ Mandy asked as she walked into the bakery’s kitchen the next morning.
Autumn’s back was facing Mandy, so she allowed herself a quick breath and silent moan that Hunter hadn’t left before her pastry chef had arrived at work. The rest of her team were already there, bustling in and out of the kitchen as they prepared for the breakfast rush that would soon begin. Autumn took another breath, then turned to Mandy with a smile.
‘Yes,’ she said brightly. ‘He came over last night for dinner.’
Mandy’s eyes narrowed. ‘And he’s only leaving this morning...?’
‘We finished late, and we’d been drinking.’
‘Hmm.’
Ignoring the disbelieving tone of the woman she considered a friend, Autumn quickly changed the subject.
‘Give me highlights of what I missed this weekend. Then tell me how the Thompson wedding cake is coming along.’
‘Good morning to you, too.’
‘You were the one who came in here without a greeting.’
Mandy sent her a look, then launched into a concise report as she got ready for work. It had been that kind of efficiency that had helped Mandy work her way up to pastry chef in the six years since Autumn had started the bakery.
If she was honest, it felt like longer than that. Perhaps because she’d spent most of her childhood in the kitchen. At first, it had been out of curiosity. She’d strolled down to the kitchen as the staff had been preparing for one of her parents’ numerous parties, and had found herself hypnotised.
The pastries had drawn her attention almost immediately. She’d loved the colours and the smell of them; wondered at the skill and caution they were being decorated with. When one of the chefs had encouraged her to join in, starting her off slowly, patiently, she’d fallen in love with the creation process. And her parents’ parties had become a way for her to participate in something she loved.
Later, it had been a chance to contribute to the functions in the only way she could. When she’d got older she’d realised the parties weren’t only social events, but networking opportunities. Autumn didn’t have Summer’s business acumen, nor did she have the professional knowledge her father had invested into her sister. She couldn’t talk potential foreign or domestic clients. She had no idea about the details of global merchandise and distribution.
So she baked. And when she left the kitchen, she charmed. And felt like a failure for it.
The smell of sweetness and coffee mingled with the faint freshness of the fields around the bakery usually comforted her. Today, her thoughts turned them sour. For a moment, they even tarnished the efforts she’d put into creating her bakery. The stained cement floors and wooden panelling looked dull. The natural light and countryside atmosphere she’d incorporated when renovating the barn felt kitschy. So did the neat rock-filled paths leading to the bakery; the gardens beyond it.
She’d thought it such a good idea. A cute bakery and café with great food and even better desserts a short trip outside Cape Town that felt like the middle of nowhere. Now, she doubted it. Her memories of growing up tended to do that.
They were always accompanied by the comparisons, starting much earlier than she could even remember. All she knew was that the visits to Bishop Enterprises hadn’t been for her benefit. That her questions hadn’t been answered in the same way that Summer’s had. That the there, there nature of the response to her complaints to her mother had been meant to placate her. And that being sent to the kitchen to ‘bake something’ had been to distract her.
Any desire she might have had to join the family business had been stifled then already. But it had been well and truly shattered after her father’s affair.
When Summer had found out Trevor Bishop had cheated, she’d pulled away from him. From Autumn and their mother, too. Autumn knew now that was because Trevor had asked Summer to keep the affair a secret, which had been a burden Summer had carried with her for years. Autumn had only discovered that this past weekend, at their parents’ thirtieth anniversary.
It had upset her. Not because of her father’s actions, though those weren’t great. No, she was upset that Summer had kept the truth from her. And she was worried about what she’d done to bring that about.
Autumn was sure Summer didn’t know she harboured a tiny bit of resentment towards Summer because their parents preferred her. But what if she did know?
Autumn had pushed the concerns aside during the weekend. It hadn’t been important then anyway. Summer had needed her. Autumn might have been jealous of Summer—only a tiny bit—but she would be there for her sister.
She’d done something similar after her father’s affair. Then, she’d thought her father needed someone to take over from Summer. Someone in the family who could run the family business. There had only been her, and she’d been so damn hopeful. But she still hadn’t been good enough. In fact, her father had gone in an entirely different direction. He’d trained someone new; the man who had become Summer’s husband. Then ex-husband. Now boyfriend.
The anniversary weekend had...complicated things.
The point was that her father had not once thought to focus on Autumn the attention he’d spent on Summer. Even when Autumn had asked if she could help, and how she could help, he’d told her she’d be better off elsewhere. She’d realised then that whatever she achieved in her life would have nothing to do with the Bishop family business. The Bishop money would get her foot in the door—and it had, with her father’s start-up contribution to her bakery—but kicking it open would be up to her.
She had her doubts about that though. Still did, if she was being honest. Despite the success of her bakery, she worried something would happen that would take it all away from her. She’d do something wrong. Or people would finally realise she didn’t know what she was doing. That she wasn’t good enough. Her parents had believed that, hadn’t they? They’d put Summer first, so they must have.
It didn’t help that that was how things had gone with Hunter, too. Their relationship had been going well, and suddenly he’d been pulling away from her. She’d tried to talk away the insecurities as she usually did, but, like always, they were valid. Despite her trying to be a good girlfriend. A perfect girlfriend.
She was still doing it. Trying to be the perfect friend. What she couldn’t figure out was why. She had nothing to prove to Hunter any more. They were friends because he’d approached her after their break-up. She hadn’t been desperately chasing after him. In fact, she knew a friendship with him was a bad idea. And his situation with his baby? This request? It proved that. Because she knew it would bring her nothing but pain.
So why had she agreed to help?
‘Autumn. Autumn.’
Autumn’s eyes widened before they settled on Mandy.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Did you hear a word I said?’ Mandy poured herself a cup of coffee. ‘Or are you too busy thinking about Hunter?’
‘I’m tired,’ Autumn replied prudishly. ‘And not for that reason,’ she said when Mandy opened her mouth. ‘I didn’t have much rest over the weekend.’
‘Was your parents’ anniversary that good?’
‘Yeah,’ Autumn said. ‘It was touch and go for a moment. Some other time,’ she told Mandy with a wave of her hand, ‘but they’re still in love. It’s nauseating.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Mandy said, her expression dreamy. ‘I think it’s brilliant. Two old people, still in love after all these years.’
‘My parents are not old.’
Mandy stared at her.
‘They’re older,’ Autumn conceded, ‘and, trust me, it’s less appealing when your mother and father are sticking their tongues down each other’s throats.’
Mandy pulled a face. ‘Ugh.’
‘Exactly.’ She paused, and when the thought popped in her mind, Autumn went with it. ‘Could you keep an eye on things for a few hours?’
‘Sure.’ Mandy frowned. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. I thought I’d try and catch an hour of sleep before I switch the sugar with salt in a batch of cupcakes.’
Mandy winced. ‘You don’t have to keep bringing that up, you know. I felt bad enough when it happened.’
‘Me too, considering I can still taste it.’ She mock shuddered, and then laughed when Mandy mimicked throwing something at her. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll only bring it up until you do something similarly atrocious.’
Mandy glowered at her, and Autumn grinned.
See, a voice in her head told her, you can do this. You can totally pretend like your brain isn’t malfunctioning and your heart isn’t questioning your sanity.
Except she wasn’t sure how sustainable it was. It felt as if she was offering Mandy a fake shiny version of herself that would crack if anyone stared at it too long.
‘I’ll see you later,’ Autumn said, taking her apron off and grabbing her purse and keys.
‘Don’t think you got away from the Hunter question,’ Mandy called after her.
Autumn’s shoulders immediately tightened. She didn’t bother turning around, just lifted a hand in a wave and left Mandy to speculate.
She didn’t mind Mandy’s curiosity. They weren’t simply friends because they worked together. Mandy didn’t ever question who Autumn was, or seem to expect anything from her. Autumn didn’t have to worry about being on, though most of the time, she couldn’t help it.
She was always playing a role. Perfect daughter. Perfect sister. Perfect girlfriend. And asking herself questions: what did her mother, sister, boyfriend need from her? Who did she need to be to provide it?
The problem with it was that she was consistently putting others first. More significantly, she was placing herself last. Just like with the situation with Hunter, she knew what moulding herself to other people’s needs would bring her. Disappointment when they didn’t see her, appreciate her. Hurt when their actions told her they didn’t value her efforts.
And just like with Hunter, she couldn’t figure out why she still did it.
She gritted her teeth, pausing to catch her breath. Seconds later she realised she’d reached her house. She looked up at the tall white building with the dark wooden frames. After years, it still made her happy. Her steps crunched on the white pebbled pathway, and she tried to let the roses along it calm her as she made her way to her patio.
It was a simple pleasure, standing there and looking at the city she’d grown up in. Buildings of various colours looked back at her, along with Table Mountain in the far distance, and bodies of water and houses. If she looked to the left, she could see the green grass spilling over the inclines and declines of her property. If she walked in that direction, she’d be able to see the river she could sometimes hear at night.
She took a deep breath and settled down on one of the recliners she’d bought for the pool. Her body sighed in relief. It felt as if it had been in a fight. Or perhaps it felt as if it was preparing for an onslaught. She’d barely got any sleep the night before, the thought of Hunter in the other room too much of a distraction. The memory of what he’d told her too much of a disturbance.
I’m a father.
She wanted to take those words and crumple them up. Throw them down at the city she loved so much. They filled her with so much pain, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Was it because they symbolised something she would never have? Certainly not with him. Or was it because they confirmed that he’d moved on from her?
She had no right to be upset about it. He hadn’t cheated on her. They’d broken up. And while she’d stayed on her couch for weeks, crying about a man she’d thought would fulfil the perfect plans she’d had for them, he’d been giving someone else everything she’d wanted.
Autumn.
She sighed, knocked her head lightly against the headrest of the recliner. She couldn’t help him if she felt like this. Since she’d already agreed to it, she didn’t have much choice now. She would just be...cautious. She would try and protect herself.
Though she wasn’t sure how she was going to do it, she was content with realising she had to. Content enough to close her eyes and sleep as the sun’s rays touched her legs.
* * *
Grace would be bringing Eli, his son, over in an hour. He paced the room, the thought of it, the realisation of it, worrying him as he waited for Autumn to arrive. He needed her with him so his mind would stop tripping over itself. So his heart wouldn’t feel as if it were beating in a compressed space.
He ignored the guilt that accompanied the need.
It had encouraged him to offer to pick her up, though. She’d refused.
‘Even if we ignore how silly it would be for you to drive an hour out of the city to help me,’ she’d started in a tone that had brooked no disagreement, ‘how would you take me home when you have a three-month-old to get settled?’
He hadn’t even considered that, which had pushed his thoughts back over a cliff.
He was worried, deeply, that he wouldn’t be a good father. That he’d follow his father’s footsteps and act selfishly. Or that he wouldn’t be able to give his son what he needed.
That fear was deeper than the ones he had about repeating his father’s mistakes, though more obscured. He could see it was there, like a red light flickering under black material, but he didn’t know what it said. His emotions curling into themselves, rocking back and forth, told him it had to do with Janie. But he couldn’t unfurl the emotions or still their movement long enough to figure it out.
So they stayed in his stomach, making him ill. And he waited for Autumn to arrive so he wouldn’t have to focus on them.
The doorbell rang then; an answer to his prayers. He nearly flung it open in his haste, and his throat went dry. Every part of him stilled, his eyes sweeping over Autumn.
There was one tiny part that began moving again though, jumping up and down, telling him he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be overwhelmed by how beautiful she was. He had to pretend he didn’t find her attractive. But he nearly snorted at that part because he had eyes in his head. He couldn’t pretend the woman standing in front of him didn’t take his breath away.
She was wearing a pretty summer dress, peach-coloured, which somehow stood out against and moulded to her bronze-tinted skin. Her hair had been tied back into a bunch of curls at the nape of her neck. He was sure that when she turned around, he’d see a ribbon the same colour as her dress keeping it there.
The dress scooped over her neck, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her cleavage; it ended right above her knee, giving him a generous view of smooth, defined legs. The gold sandals she wore wound around feet he’d always thought extraordinary and clung to ankles he could remember kissing.
Logically, he knew he wouldn’t be able to run from the fact that he was attracted to her. Because it was simply that—a fact. And he was an adult, who could process facts and control impulses.
But he wouldn’t lie: at that moment, it felt as if the universe were testing his ability to do either.
‘I was going to say hello,’ Autumn said slowly, ‘but considering your expression, I now feel like I should ask about your fire extinguisher?’
A fierce blush hit his face.
‘I have wine.’
‘Hello to you, too,’ she said, amusement making her even more beautiful. Annoyingly so. He nearly growled. ‘Wine sounds lovely.’
She walked in, past him, and he let out a tight breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. After giving himself a stern talking-to, he followed her into the kitchen, and poured her a glass of wine. He didn’t pour himself one, though he wanted it. Or something stronger. But he couldn’t drink when he had to take care of a kid. Besides, he’d been put off by drinking since it had put him in his current predicament. Abstinence—in more than one way—was his strategy moving forward.
‘You’ve set the table,’ she commented, sipping from her wine, looking around.
His eyes moved over to the dining room, which he’d decorated with the white runner his mother had sent him when she’d visited the Seychelles some time back. Since he’d opened the glass sliding doors leading into his garden—things had seemed too stifling otherwise—he’d added two citronella candles on either side of the table. He’d thrown some straw placemats around the table after, thinking it made his place look homely. Now, he wondered.
‘Too much?’
‘No, it’s nice.’ She turned to face him, and her expression softened. ‘You’ve got to calm down, Hunter.’
‘I’m perfectly calm,’ he lied.
Her brow arched. ‘Really? So that twitch at your right eye is because you’re Zen, huh?’
‘Just a tic.’
‘The frown, too?’
He immediately relaxed his forehead.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Why are you nervous?’
He made a hand gesture that was supposed to indicate everything. She nodded.
‘Well, the upside is things can hardly go worse than the first two times you’ve met her. Neither of them was particular positive, I don’t think.’
‘Hey,’ he said without heat.
‘What?’ she asked dryly. ‘You think you’re a stud when you’re drunk? Because I’ve got to tell you—’
‘You’ve never complained.’
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