“Would it be so bad?” he asked kindly. “To have some faith in another person?”
I gave it some thought then nodded slowly. “Yes. I think it would.”
He held my gaze. I had a feeling I was making a terrible mistake, and yet I couldn’t stop it.
“Am I waiting for you, Emmabelle?” he asked quietly. “Is there even a reason for me to wait for you?”
Say yes, you idiot. Give him something to hold on to, so you’ll have something to hold on to.
But the word slipped out of my mouth anyway. Harsh and blunt, like a stone. “No.”
For the next hour and a half, we talked about everything that wasn’t our respective phobias of confined places and relationships.
We talked about our mutual friends, our childhoods, politics, global warming, and our pet peeves—his included when people said ‘literally’ when what they meant was not, in fact, literal; mine consisted of using the same knife for the peanut butter and jelly, and when people told me I was not going to believe something, when I absolutely was going to believe it.
“Humans are just deplorable!” I threw my hands in the air, summing up our brunch. Devon paid the bill and, if my sneak-peek wasn’t mistaken, was also leaving one heck of a tip.
“Inexcusable,” he cemented. I was glad he was okay with our conversation after I told him not to wait for me. “But one must deal with them anyway.”
“Thanks for not being completely horrible, boo.” I pressed my fist to his bicep in a friendly manner. Bad call. I was met with his bulging muscles through his clothes and immediately wanted to jump his bones.
Devon looked up from the bill and rolled his thumb against my brow. “Darling, do you have a fever? I do believe you just paid me a compliment.”
“Well, you just paid for one hell of a meal. I didn’t mean it or anything,” I huffed. Way to go, Belle. Channeling your inner five-year-old.
“You’re thawing.” He grinned.
I made a gagging sound and scooped my clutch. “Not in this lifetime. As I said, don’t wait up for me to change my mind about us.”
He escorted me to a cab to take me to Madame Mayhem then waited with me when the driver went in circles for ten minutes trying to find us and apologized profusely, saying he’d just moved to Boston from New York.
The driver parked in front of us, and Devon did the duck-head-into-window shtick and told him to drive extra slow because his wife was pregnant and nauseous, which made me want to vomit from excitement and dread at the same time.
Devon erected back to his full height, rubbing my jaw tenderly. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, a shiver rolled along my spine, making my skin tingle. He leaned forward, and I caught a waft of his scent. Spicy and dusky. A scent I’d grown to chase each time he left my office or my bed.
I found myself admiring the planes of his face. My fingertips itched to touch him. Knowing I was carrying his DNA inside me gave me a thrill I’d never had in my thirty years of clubbing.
He tilted his face to one side, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, I rose on my tiptoes, my mouth falling open. His body moved forward, engulfing me. My heart began to hammer.
It was happening.
We were breaking the rules.
When Devon was a few inches behind me, he reached his arm past my shoulder and opened the car’s door, stepping aside to give me some room to enter.
Holy embarrassing shitballs.
I almost devoured his face when all he wanted to do was help me into a taxi.
“Have a good day, Emmabelle.” He took another step back, looking casual and dry as fuck.
“Yeah!” My voice broke. Hello, thirteen-year-old-boy Belle. “You too.”
The entire taxi ride to work, I reminded myself that this was all my doing. I wanted to keep him away. Hanky Panky with an older man had its price tag, and I’d once paid for it dearly.
This is how it starts, I chided the seeds of hope that had taken root inside me. Sweet and unassuming. It’s all fun and games until he destroys your life.
But no one was going to destroy me anymore.
Then I remembered one of the quotes hanging on the wall in my apartment.
It’s okay.
You just forgot who you are.
Welcome back.
I arrived on English soil approximately twenty minutes after my father’s solicitor, Harry Tindall, returned from his exotic vacation.
I left Sweven with a heavy heart. Not because I was going to miss her （although, pathetically, I suspected that was going to be the case）， but also because she seemed an expert at landing herself in hot water.