“We’re in the way,” Ashanti said. She looked around, searching for some place they could have this extremely important discussion before they got on that plane. “Come with me.” Her face still burned as she led Thad to an alcove near the restrooms.
Ashanti released a deep breath.
“Okay, so do you remember when you asked me to forget that thing you said earlier when we were outside Mrs. Frances’s place?”
He nodded.
“Well, I’m asking you to do the same now.”
“What am I forgetting?”
“That I just admitted to spending time thinking about your body,” she said. God, she needed an ice bath. “Forget I said that.”
He stuffed his hands in his front pockets. “So does this mean we’re going to keep demanding the other person develop a case of selective amnesia when we say what we really feel?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly. “Yes, that’s exactly what we will do. I just can’t do…” She waved a hand between them. “This. For numerous reasons, I can’t do this right now. It’s best if we do the selective amnesia thing.”
“Is it realistic?” Thad asked.
Not even a little bit. But…
“It has to be,” Ashanti said.
This time, his grin didn’t hold much humor. There was disappointment there, and maybe a smidge of resignation.
“If that’s what you want,” he finally said.
Want?
No, it wasn’t even remotely close to what she wanted. But it was, without a doubt, the best course of action here.
A relationship of any kind was off the table, even that fling Ridley had suggested. She wasn’t even thinking about Anita and her threat to petition the courts; Ashanti simply didn’t have the bandwidth to handle any emotional entanglements. Her life was currently broken up into twelve-minute segments—the time it took to bake a batch of Duchess Delights treats.
And she had a feeling when Thad got down to business he needed way more than twelve minutes.
That wasnotwhere she needed her mind to go right now.
“Thisiswhat you want, right?” Thad asked.
“It’s what we both want,” Ashanti said. “Isn’t that why you asked me to forget what you said when we were leaving the assisted living facility?”
He blew out a breath and ran a hand down his face. “Not really,” he mumbled. “But you’re right.”
“Okay,” Ashanti said with a nod, pretending she hadn’t heard the first half of his answer. “So now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we can just enjoy New York without any more awkwardness. And if I slip and say something like that again, you can ignore me.”
“Just so I’m clear, how many times am I supposed to ignore you before acknowledging that those slipups are how you really feel?”
One hundred? Two, maybe?
“I won’t slip up again,” Ashanti said.
His shrug said he didn’t believe her. He was probably right.
It was going to be a long three days.
They headed for their gate, which turned out to be just a few yards down the concourse. The moment they arrived, Ashanti could tell something was off. The whispers and murmurs were low at first, but within two minutes of her taking her seat, the questions started.
The woman sitting directly across from her leaned over and asked, “Excuse me, but are you Duchess and Puddin’s two owners?”
