Now that I’m looking closer, I’m pretty sure her shirt is on backwards since I can see the tag at her throat.
She makes a beeline for Margo, who is standing near one of the refreshment tables. I can’t hear what they’re saying from across the room, but Heather’s body language is urgent. Her hands are moving frantically as she talks, and I recognize the gestures from other times she’s been stressed or upset about something.
Margo’s expression shifts from confused to concerned as she nods along with whatever Heather is saying. I take a step in that direction, but still can only catch fragments of words—something about a work emergency, and April, and watching her for an hour or two.
Margo nods again and gives Heather a quick hug, then Heather turns to go. Her eyes sweep across the room until they land on me, and our gazes lock for a split second.
But then her attention shifts to the three women still flanking me, and I see something flash across her face before her expression goes carefully blank. She looks away quickly, but I can see her cheeks flushing pink even from this distance.
One hand comes up to touch her hair, like she’s just realized how disheveled she must look, then she crosses her arms overher chest and puts her head down as she quickly walks toward the door.
“Grant?” The blonde woman touches my arm again. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Whatever it was, I must have missed it completely. I barely register what she’s saying now. All I know is that my chest is tight, and I have to get to Heather before she makes it out of here.
“Excuse me,” I say to the women without bothering to finish the conversation or offering any kind of explanation.
I’m already moving, leaving three confused, annoyed donors behind me.
I don’t care.
The one woman who matters to me just slipped through the door, and she’s already halfway down the hallway before I catch up with her.
“Heather, wait.”
She takes another step, then stops but doesn’t turn around for another couple of seconds. Her shoulders are still so tense, and she’s still looking down at the floor when she finally does turn my direction.
“Is everything okay?” I ask even though it’s a stupid question. Of course everything isn’t okay. Nothing seems to be okay right now. “I saw you talking to Margo. Do you need help with something?”
“It’s fine.” She waves a dismissive hand. “It’s just a thing for work. I needed her to pick up April from school and watch her for a bit while I deal with it.”
“You could’ve asked me. I would’ve picked her up.”
She lets out a short noise that would be a laugh if there was any humor in it. “Grant, please. Just stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop trying to be so nice to me.” She crosses her arms tightly over her chest again and looks past me back toward the conference room. “You don’t have to do that. Not after last night.”
My jaw clenches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I get it, okay?” Her cheeks turn from light pink to a deeper red as she finally meets my eyes. “You felt sorry for me. Poor Heather hasn’t had an orgasm in eight years, so you decided to help out. But then it got weird and uncomfortable, so you left. And now you’re trying to be nice because you feel bad about it.”
Shit.
I knew I’d messed up, but not like this. If I’d known that’s what she thought, I would’ve made time this morning to set the record straight.
“Is that really what you think?”
“Yes.” She lifts her chin in that tough, defiant way I’ve seen her daughter subconsciously mimic a dozen times. “That’s exactly what I think.”
The cautious, rational part of my brain shuts down. I take a step forward, and she instinctively takes a step back until her shoulders are pressed against the wall.
I plant my hands on either side of her head, boxing her in without actually touching her. She sucks in a ragged breath as her eyes go wide.
“Do you wanna know why I left? The real reason?” I have to fight to keep my voice from carrying down the hallway. “The reason I walked out of that sauna had nothing to do with pity. Nothing.”
“Then why did you leave? If it wasn’t pity, what was it?”
