Nathan shrugged off my judgment. “She’s been alive for eighty years. She saw the Berlin Wall fall. I think she can survive the wordprick.”
“It’s called being respectful.” I pushed past him into brisk morning air, walking faster than usual. Nathan’s long legs gave him an advantage, but I refused to fall behind, to have to watch him for the next five minutes. “And Derek is not a prick.”
Nathan fell into step beside me, easily closing the gap between us. “He’s a lawyer.”
“So? Do you want to be judged by the stereotypes ofyourcareer?”
Nathan ignored my question. “You haven’t seen him in years. He could be an axe murderer for all you know.”
I huffed out a breath. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
People liked to say men—unlike women—never held grudges. They fought, then left their shit in the dust. But it wasn’t true. Some men held tight to their grudges, for seven years and counting.
After a minute of silence, Nathan asked, “So… you going to tell me about him?”
My head snapped his way. “What?”
“Mr. You Too. I assume that was him.” He gestured to my left hand.
The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my love life with Nathan Sharpe. “Why do you care?”
“I’m beingpolite,” he said, calling back to what I told him yesterday.
“You’re being nosy. Being polite is asking how I’m doing, not—”
“Whoyou’re doing?”
I coughed, nearly choking on the implication of sex.
He winced as it dawned on him how inappropriate his words were. “Sorry, I didn’t—”
I waved away his attempt at an explanation. “Let’s stick to silence.”
We waited for a car to pass before crossing the main road. After another block of silence, we reached our destination—a small building, home to a chiropractor’s practice and a law office. Nathan reached for the door at the same time as me. Our shoulders bumped, which pushed me to the side.
He grabbed my forearm to steady me, sending a bolt of electricity to my shoulder.No, I ordered my brain,not again.
“My bad.” He dropped my arm as soon as I was upright.
I smoothed my hair. “It’s fine.”
When I stepped toward the building at the same time as Nathan again, he deftly avoided me.
“Go ahead,” I said at the same time Nathan told me, “You go.”
He sighed, running a hand through his chestnut hair and ruining the clean-cut image he’d tried to project for whatever reason. He stepped back and gestured me forward with one hand.
I didn’t hesitate and walked through the double doors, turning toward the law office without a glance behind me.
The receptionist looked up as we entered.Be right with you, she mouthed, gesturing to her headset.
Behind me, Nathan’s presence was palpable. I tried to ignore it by studying the office walls. Most were plain white, but one was filled with photographs of men in suits in various pursuits—shaking hands with clients, speaking in court, standing in front of the building in a smiling advertisement. Seeing Derek dressed to the nines and without a trace of the boyishness I remembered from high school was another reminder of how much time had passed.
And yet, everything that happened back then was a wound that hadn’t fully healed.
Nathan leaned toward me, his breath hitting my neck, which sent a shiver down my spine. “Imagining the life you could have had?”
“No.” I shrugged my shoulder to push him away. “I’m wondering whether these lawyers could get me a free pass if I decked you right now.”
