Page 22 of Center Ice
“What’s wrong?” she asks the minute we lock eyes.
I have no business asking the question, but I ask anyway. “Who’s Karl?”
Her eyebrows scrunch together. “What?”
“He just texted you?—”
The phone lights up again with the second notification about the message, and she snatches it up so quickly I stop speaking. Her eyes scan the screen, then she narrows them at me. “Why are you reading my messages?”
“Your phone was just sitting there, so I glanced at it to make sure it wasn’t Jules contacting you with some sort of an emergency.”
“If there was an emergency, she’d have called.” She doesn’t slide into her seat, so I get the sense that she thinks we’re done here. I’m thankful I paid the bill while she was in the bathroom, so I can stand and we can finish this conversation. Because even though I have no right to get involved, I’m determined that she’s not going to rush home to meet whoever this asshole is.
“So, who’s Karl?” I’m doing what I can to unclench my jaw, but even I can hear how terse my words are.
“It’s none of your business.” She folds her arms defensively, and even with my eyes focused on her face, I notice how it pushes her cleavage up into the V-neck of her sweater dress.
Keeping my movements slow and calm, I take a step toward her—I’m trying very hard to be careful and cautious with her, and with our whole situation. And even though I know she’s right, and it’s none of my business, there’s an undercurrent of jealousy coursing through my veins that I can’t stop myself from acting on, even while I tell myself to calm the hell down.
I don’t want her to be with anyone else.
“Maybe it’s not. Except that he’s talking about coming over to your place, and Graham’s there. Are you seeing someone? Is he part of Graham’s life?”
She sighs, and it’s like the movement physically deflates her. Her shoulders sag and she looks at the ground.
“Hey.” I reach out and tilt her chin up, but I don’t remove my hand. I love the way her jaw looks cupped in my palm and the way her smooth skin feels as my fingers slide along it. “I know I’m not even a part of Graham’s life yet, so I’m just trying to understand the situation.”
“No judgment?”
Thank goodness she didn’t ask me to commit to not being jealous. “No judgment.”
“It’s just casual. He worked at the firm where I did my post-grad professional internship. He’s recently divorced, I have a kid…neither of us is looking for anything serious.”
“Has he met Graham?”
Her piercing blue eyes stare up at me from beneath her dark lashes, then she lifts her chin so I have no choice but to drop my hand. I let it land on her shoulder and pull her a bit closer to me. I can feel her breath on my neck as it comes out in short bursts.
Finally, she says, “No.”
“Good. I’d really prefer if we kept it that way.”
“We’re keeping it that way because that’s whatIthink is best for Graham.” The rigid set of her jaw and the tense note of her words let me know that I am not a factor in this decision.Yet.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“Don’t step into this situation thinking you have any control overmylife, Drew.” Audrey looks up at me as she speaks. She sounds breathless, exactly how I remember her sounding when I went to kiss her the first time and she stopped me to say it was probably a bad idea. As it turns out, everything had changed in that moment; I just didn’t know it until last night.
“I’m not trying to control your life. I’m just trying to be part of it.”
“Well, stop,” she says, but there’s no force behind it. “We are Graham’s parents, but that doesn’t mean we’re part of each other’s lives outside of our son.”
“Agree to disagree,” I say, then I drop my hand to her lower back and move her down the hallway toward the front door.
I can tell she’s got a hundred excuses ready to throw at me, but I’m not hearing any of them. Because all it’s taken is a couple of hours in her presence for me to remember how much I liked her when we were in college. If I hadn’t moved to the otherside of the continent, I would have wantedallher nights, and probably her days too.
And as I walk her home, the realization creeps over me slowly but surely: I want her, just like I did six years ago. Everything’s more complicated now, and getting involved with her is probably a terrible idea. But I can’t shake the sensation that even though I’m not what she wants, I might be exactly what she needs—and she might be what I need, too.
Chapter Eleven
