Fuck it. He already knows I’m tailing him.
A cheery jingle welcomes me as I yank the door open, the gust of AC nearly making me moan. I push sweaty hair off my forehead and scan the line for my runaway boy. Except he’s not ordering coffee. There’s only one way in and out… unless he cut through the back.
My gaze sweeps the dining area and within three seconds I locate a familiar brunette in a blue tee—
He’s not alone.
Across the table is an attractive blonde guy with two cups of coffee. He’s beaming as he passes one to Remy, who accepts it with a shy smile.
A smile.
A. Genuine. Fucking. Smile.
I’m boiling, and it has nothing to do with the temperature outside.
The asshole with obnoxiously bleached teeth is babbling animatedly, hands flying around as he regales some stupid tale to a chuckling Remy.
This Ken-Doll-looking piece of shit is making my boy laugh too?
Fuck no.
All pretense flies out the window. I stomp to the counter, trying my hardest not to snap at the barista who takes a hundred years to make a simple order.
“You need a bag?” she asks as I swipe my card.
If she holds me up any longer, I'm going to lose it. I shake my head, scooping up my haul and spinning on my heel. Then I'm plopping everything on the table between Remy and Twinkly Teeth.
“You didn’t mention someone was joining us,” I say, sliding two chocolate-filled croissants to Remy.
Hazel eyes blink in shock.
To Mr. Shiny Teeth and Me, I flash a threatening simper, extending a hand across the table as I sink into the open seat. “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Win.”
Chicklet Tooth shoots Remy a look that wordlessly demands,“Who the fuck is this?”
My grin widens.
He clears his throat and gives me a loose handshake. “Henry.”
I scoot my chair an inch closer to Remy; our arms bump. His warm skin against mine is a shot of euphoria. He flinches, jaw flexing as he stares at the pastries I’ve laid before him.
“I thought you had… somewhereelseto be,” he hisses out of the corner of his mouth.
I cock my head. “The only place I want to be is here with you.”
His spine straightens, a mixture of rage, sorrow and disbelief swirling in his eyes. Rage is winning. His upper lip curls in a sneer.
“Is that so?”
I urge all sincerity to the surface.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Always has been.”
His knuckles are white, his grip strangling the paper coffee cup. Henry glances between us, unaware of the secondary conversation happening.
Then Remy lurches out of his chair, shaking the table. King Toothtastic’s coffee tips—
A waterfall of brown, milky liquid cascades to the floor. I shove my chair back in time to miss the onslaught, but Henry isn’t so lucky. It drenches his crisp white polo, collects in the lap of his blue shorts and soaks his boat shoes.
