“Don’t touch me,” I say suddenly, sensing Kenji’s intention to make contact with me—to tap my shoulder or grab my arm—before it happens. It takes a great deal of self-control not to physically respond.
“Why do you have to say it like that?” he says, wounded. “Why do you make it sound like I was going toenjoytouching you? I’m just trying to get your attention.”
“What do you need, Kishimoto?” I ask unkindly. “I’m not interested in your company.”
His responding pain is loud; it glances off my chest, leaving a vague impression. This pathetic new development fills me with shame. I desperately don’t want to care, and yet—
Ella adores this idiot.
I come to a sudden stop on the path. The dog bumps my legs, wagging its tail violently before barking again. I take a deep breath, stare at a tree in the distance.
“What is it you need?” I ask again, this time gently.
I feel him frown as he processes his feelings. He doesn’t look at me when he says, “I just wanted to tell you that I got it.”
I stiffen at that, my body activating with awareness. I pivot fully to face him. Suddenly, Kenji Kishimoto appears to me vividly rendered: his tired eyes, his tanned skin, hisheavy, sharp black brows—and his hair, in desperate need of a cut. There’s a bruise fading along his temple, his left hand wrapped in gauze. I hear the rattle of leaves and spot a squirrel, darting into a bush. The dog goes berserk.
“You got what?” I say carefully.
“Oh, now you’re interested?” He meets my eyes, his own narrowed in anger. “Now you’re going to look at me like I’m a human being? You know what? Fuck this. I don’t even know why I do shit for you.”
“You didn’t do it for me.”
Kenji makes a sound of disbelief, looking away before looking back at me. “Yeah, well, she deserves to have a nice ring, doesn’t she? You miserable piece of shit. Who proposes to a girl without a ring?”
“I might remind you that you are in no position to exercise moral superiority,” I say, my voice growing lethal even as I will myself to remain calm. “Havingdestroyedher wedding dress.”
“That was an accident!” he cries. “Yours was an oversight!”
“Your very existence is an oversight.”
“Oh, wow.” He throws up his hands. “Ha ha. Very mature comeback.”
“Do you have it or not?”
“Yeah. I do.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “But, you know, now I’m thinking I should just give it to her myself. After all, I was the one who did all of this for you. I was the one who asked Winston to sketch your design. I wasthe one who found someone to make the goddamn thing—”
“I was not going to leave the grounds while she was lying in a hospital bed,” I say, so close to shouting that Kenji visibly startles. He steps back, studies me a moment.
I neutralize my expression, but too late.
Kenji loses his anger as he stands there, softening as he stares at me. I experience nothing but rage in response.
He never seems to understand. It’s his constant pity—his sympathy, not his stupidity—that makes me want to kill him.
I take a step forward, lower my voice. “If you are idiotic enough to think I will allow you to be the one to give her this wedding ring, you have clearly underestimated me. I might not be able to kill you, Kishimoto, but I will devote my life to making yours a palpable, never-ending hellscape.”
He cracks a smile. “I’m not going to give her the ring, man. I wouldn’t do that. I was just messing with you.”
I stare at him. I can hardly speak for wanting to throttle him. “You were justmessingwith me? That was your idea of a joke?”
“Yeah, okay, listen, you are way too intense,” he says, making a face. “Juliette would’ve thought that was funny.”
“You clearly don’t know her very well if you think so.”
“Whatever.” Kenji crosses his arms. “I’ve known her longer than you have, asshole.”
At this, I experience an anger so acute I think I might actually kill him. Kenji must see this, because he backpedals.
