Leave for England . . . it doesn’t seem real.

“What?” Hardin says with a questioning look.

“I’m . . . it’s that time . . .” I look away from him, knowing that he’s had an entire month to store up his jokes.

“Hmm . . . and what time is that?” He smirks, looking at his bare wrist as if there’s a watch there.

“Don’t . . .” I whine, pressing my thighs together so I can hurry and put on enough clothes to make it to the bathroom.

“Would you look at that? A hangover and a bloody attitude!” he taunts.

“Your jokes are terrible.” I pull his T-shirt over my head and catch the languid smile he shoots at me as he takes in the sight of me wearing his shirt again.

“Terrible, huh?” His green eyes dance with amusement. “Maybe so terrible that you want to pull the plug on them?”

I hurry and exit the room while he’s still laughing to himself.

chapter

one hundred and nineteen

HARDIN

I didn’t even know you two were here. I thought Tessa had classes today,” Kimberly says to me when I enter the kitchen. Why is she even here?

“She wasn’t feeling well,” I reply. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work . . . or is staying home another perk of fucking your boss?”

“Actually, I don’t feel well either, you ass.” She tosses a wadded-up piece of paper at me but misses.

“You and Tessa should really learn how to hold your champagne,” I tell her.

She flips me off.

The microwave sounds, and she pulls out a plastic bowl filled with something that looks and smells like cat food, then sits down at the countertop. She inhales forkful after forkful. I lift my fingers to safeguard my nose.

“That smells like pure shit,” I remark.

“Where’s Tessa? She’ll shut you up.”

“Wouldn’t count on it.” I grin. I have sort of come to like taunting Vance’s fiancée. She has a thick skin, and she’s obnoxious enough that I’m provided with plenty of ammunition.

“Wouldn’t count on what?” Tessa joins us in the kitchen dressed in a sweatshirt, tight jeans, and those slipper things she swears are shoes. Really, they’re nothing but overpriced cloth wrapped around a piece of cardboard, using the pretense of charity to rip off stupid consumers. She disagrees, of course, so I’ve learned to keep this opinion to myself.

“Nothing.” I dig my hands into my pockets to fight the urge to nudge Kimberly’s smug ass off the stool.

“He’s mouthing off, nothing new.” Kim takes another bite of her cat food.

“Let’s go, she’s annoying,” I say just loud enough for Kim to hear.

“Be nice,” Tessa scolds me. I take her hand in mine and lead her out of the house.

When we get into the car, Tessa shoves a handful of plugs into my glove compartment. An idea strikes me. “You need to get on birth control,” I tell her. I’ve been so careless lately, and now that I’ve felt her without a condom, there’s no going back.

“I know. I keep meaning to make a doctor’s appointment, but it’s hard to get an appointment with student insurance.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Maybe later this week I can get in. I need to do it soon; you’re careless lately,” she says.

“Careless? Me?” I scoff, trying not to panic. “You’re the one that keeps catching me off guard, and I can’t think straight.”

“Oh please!” She giggles and leans her head back against the headrest.

“Hey, if you want to ruin your life by having a child, go for it, but you sure as hell aren’t taking me down with you.” I squeeze her thigh, and she frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” she lies, faking a smile.

“Tell me, now.”

“Children are something we shouldn’t discuss, remember?”

“I agree . . . So let’s cut out the middleman and get your ass on birth control so we don’t have to ever talk or worry about children again.”

“I’ll find a clinic to go to today so that your future isn’t in jeopardy,” she flatly remarks.

I’ve made her upset, but there really isn’t a nice way for me to tell her that she needs to get on birth control if she’s going to be fucking me multiple times a day whenever we’re near each other.

After making a few phone calls, she announces, “I have an appointment Monday.”

“Good.” I run my hand over my hair before placing it back onto her thigh.

I turn on the radio and follow the directions on my phone to the nearest mall.

BY THE TIME we’ve walked around the mall once, I’m bored out of my mind with Seattle. The only thing keeping me entertained is Tessa. Even when she’s quiet, I can read her thoughts just by watching her expressions. I watch her watch people as they rush through the mall. She frowns when an angry mother swats her child’s ass in the middle of a store, and I guide her out before the scene—and her reaction to it—get out of hand. We have lunch at a quiet pizza parlor, and Tessa fills the entire meal with talk about a new book series she’s been thinking about reading. I know how judgmental she can be about modern novels, so this surprises and intrigues me.

“I’ll have to download them when I get my e-reader back from you,” she says, swiping a napkin across her mouth. “I can’t wait to have my bracelet back, too. And the letter.”

I force myself not to panic and shove almost an entire piece of pizza into my mouth so I’m unable to respond. I can’t tell her I destroyed it, so I’m really grateful when she moves to another subject.

The day ends with Tessa falling asleep in the car. She’s made a habit of that lately, and for some reason, I love it. I take the long way back to the house, just like I did the last time.

TESSA’S ALARM didn’t wake me, and neither did she. I’m less than pleased that I didn’t get to see her before she left this morning, especially since she’ll be gone all day. When I glance at the clock on the wall, it shows almost noon; at least she’ll be taking lunch soon.

I dress quickly and leave the house for the new Vance Publishing branch office. It’s strange to think that I could be working there with her, the two of us driving to work together each morning, making the drive back home together . . . we could actually live together again.

Space, Hardin, she wants space. I laugh at the idea; we aren’t giving each other any space, really—only three days a week, tops. What we’re doing is just making seeing each other more of a pain in the ass, with the excessive driving and distance.

When I get inside the building, I find that the Seattle office is fucking outrageously lavish. It’s much bigger than the shit office I worked at. I don’t miss working in a stuffy cubicle, that’s for damned sure, but this place is nice. Vance wouldn’t allow me to work from home. It was Brent, my boss at Bolthouse, that recommended I do my work for him from my living room in order to “keep the peace.” It works out perfectly for me, even more so now that Tessa’s in Seattle, so joke is on those overly sensitive fucks in the office.

I’m surprised when I don’t get lost in this maze of a fucking building.

When I reach the reception area, Kimberly beams at me from behind her desk. “Hello. How may I help you?” she says with emphasis, showing me her ability to remain professional.

“Where’s Tessa?”

“In her office,” she says, dropping the facade.

“And that is . . .” I lean against the wall and wait for her to show me to Tessa.

“Down the hall. Her name is on the plate outside.” She glances back to her computer screen, dismissing me. Rude.

What exactly does Vance pay her to do? Whatever it is, it must be worth it for him to be able to fuck her on a constant and keep him nearby during the day. I shake my head, ridding it of the images of the two of them.

“Thanks for your help,” I gripe and head down the long narrow hallway.