“The time,” he completed. “I know.”
“It’s not like we could just come here for a night out. It’s seven hours away.” Why did she still sound so defensive?
“I know.” What was he doing? This was maddening. And confusing.
He didn’t sound upset anymore. He didn’t even sound judgmental. And yet, Kennyfeltjudged. Like she’d never made an effort.
“You had all those work and family commitments whenever I came here for a weekend or a short break,” he said with a shrug. “No big deal.”
The flicker in his eyes betrayed the lie.
“Iwantedto join you,” she whispered.
“Yes, Kenna, I know.”
She clamped her lips between her teeth to stop any further protestations, sensing that the more she protested, the more entrenched his passive-aggressiveness was going to become. Which would only lead to greater frustration for her. And since he seemed to be in a weird and unpredictable mood, she’d rather leave it alone for now.
“Are you joining me for breakfast?” she asked, knowing he’d refuse.
He shrugged. “Should I?”
“Yes? We could work out some kind of schedulewhile we eat.”
He leaned back on the spindly legged chair and folded his arms over his broad chest.
“Schedule?”
“So that we can avoid accidental encounters like these. They seem to upset you.”
“They don’t upset you?”
“Not really. Then again,Idon’t hateyou.”
His brows slammed together and he leaned forward to stare at her intently.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged and took a delicate sip of her cappuccino. She felt her words were pretty self-explanatory.
“I told you,” he said. “I don’thateyou.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” she said, snapping her fingers as if only now remembering. “You don’t feel anything for me. Well, then the sight of me shouldn’t upset you as much as it does.”
He glared at her and shifted uncomfortably in that chair, which looked like it could barely support his weight. Kenny shifted her gaze from his to look around the restaurant again.
This place was gorgeous. Beautifully decorated in pale pinks and greens, with charmingly mismatched shabby chic pieces of furniture.
Even on a Thursday morning, the place was bustling. Quite a lot of the patrons appeared to be tourists, if the number of accents and different languages she’d heard in the twenty minutes she’d been sitting there was any indication.
“This restaurant is so Tina,” Kenny observed, deliberately changing the subject. “I’ve always admired her unique style. And it’s reflected beautifully in this place.”
Kenny loved the way Tina dressed, in gorgeous, figure-hugging dresses that enhanced and complimented her plush figure.
“She’s done well,” Smith agreed, doing a quick scan of the restaurant before focusing on Kenny’s face. “We’re proud ofher. She was always so aimless before settling down here and starting this business.”
A bubbly, middle-aged waitress bounced up to their table.
“Morning, Smith,” she greeted, her curious eyes bouncing from Kenny back to Smith. “Are you ready to order? Or do you need a minute?”
