“What are these forms for?” I open the folder and begin perusing the first page.
“Consent Orders,” Zayn responds coolly, and without looking up, I can tell he’s reading me from across the desk. “I’ll be sending a copy to Daniel so he knows exactly what you want out of the divorce and he can then choose to settle out of court.”
“Don’t bank on it,” I mutter under my breath, reading over the finer details. “So Daniel will know I’m filing for divorce now?” I can’t stop the tremble that rocks my hand as I clutch Zayn’s heavy pen between my fingers. His keen eyes miss nothing.
“He will when he receives the papers,” he says slowly. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.” My voice rings with false bravado as I sign on the dotted line and stand. “Is that everything?”
Zayn sinks back into his chair with a thoughtful look on his face.
“Why do you volunteer at Hope House?”
Woah. The change of topic, paired with the dangerously curious edge to Zayn’s voice, makes me falter.
“I have a lot of time on my hands.”
He releases a low breath. “Cute. Let’s try for the real reason now.”
I reach for my bag and coat as panic grips my chest. “Stop acting like you know me well enough to know when I’m lying, Zayn.” I lift my purse over my arm. “Because you don’t. And I’m not.”
“I think you’re hiding something about Daniel, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why you married him,” Zayn continues as if I hadn’t even spoken. “Because I do know you, Gianna. Better than anyone else. It doesn’t matter if it’s been ten minutes or tenyears,I can read you like a book because I studied you like you were my favourite subject. And when I left, you hated Daniel.”
And Ilovedyou.
“You knownothing,” I say, glaring imaginary daggers at him that I wish were real. Howdarehe? “Youleft,Zayn. And I realise it wasn’t your choice to leave, but it sure was your choice not to come back. So now you don’t get to judge me! I’m not judging you and how you choose to spend yourlunch break, even though I find it disgusting!”
He stares at me blankly. Does he think I didn’t see the girl leaving here?
For the first time since he came back into my life, he isn’t a step ahead of me.
“What are you talking about?” His gaze narrows with the demand in his voice and he stands, spreading his hands on the desk, staring me down.
Why does every conversation with Zayn feel like a battle? And why does it feel like I’m always on the losing side?
“I’m not going to spell it out for you. The papers are signed and I’m leaving.”
I turn on my heel and head toward the closed door.
“Wait.” The smooth demand filters over my shoulder, but I don’t stop. “Stop running from me, Gianna.”
That does give me pause, my hand hovering over his door handle as I get a rush of deja vu from my first time in his office. “I’m not running, I’m leaving. There’s a difference.”
His voice grows louder as he approaches behind me. “You’re running. You’vebeenrunning since the night at the hotel and I want to know why.”
I spin around, and Zayn is so close I have no choice but to plant my back against the door. I look up at his perfectly angled face, the one I didn’t recognise that night at the hotel. Just the mention of that night makes my insides turn into molten lava as I dart my gaze over his striking features. The full lips that are pulled together in annoyance. The dark eyes that seem to always be trained on me, seeing everything but giving nothing of themselves away. Even now, I have to fight down the urge to reach up and run my hands through his stubble to feel his sharp jawline beneath my fingers, which is annoying because someone else was just doing that. Why does he have to be so damn appealing to me? It’s like God moulded Zayn based on my deepest fantasies alone. It’s torture because once upon a time I had him all to myself, but now I know I won’t ever have him again.
“Let me take you home. We can talk,” he pleads, his voice low and smoother than velvet. Why is he doing this to me? Will he not stop until he gets his last word in?
“Do you offer to drive all your clients home?” I breathe, staring up at him as my heart pumps manically at his proximity. He obviously feels like he needs to explain that he fell out of love with me, no matter how much I tell him hedoesn’t. It will hurt. It’s been ten years and my heart hasn’t forgotten him. Unfortunately, I suspect it never will. Do I just let him have his way so he can finally leave me alone? My heart has survived this much; surely it can take this one last hit.
“No. Just you,” he says quietly, and I swear his hand twitches like he wants to touch me too. Why does he say these things to me?
“We have history, Zayn,” I say, trying to breathe through my mouth to stop his scent from filtering in and messing with my senses. “That doesn’t mean we have to carry that into the present. Let it go. I have.”
Well, maybe I haven’t quite yet. But I have hope that I will.
He closes his eyes and works his jaw back and forth. “I’m just asking for ten minutes of your time.” His eyes open, and I see a plead behind them. “Please, Gianna.”
