Page 21 of Rush of Jealousy

“Baby, I know a lot about you.”

“Creepy.”

“Practical.”

“Still creepy.” I stifle a giggle.

“Damn, I miss that giggle.” He walks back over to me and kneels at my feet. “Please tell me what I can do to fix us.”

I shake my head back and forth. “There is no us, Graham.”

He lets out a sigh. “I broke us. But there most definitely was anus. Still is anus.”

I start to talk but get halted by a knock at the door. Graham curses under his breath. He effortlessly gets up from the floor, saunters over to the door, and retrieves the bag out of the messenger’s hands.

“I can help you get dressed, but I figure the answer is a hell no,” he says sadly, handing me the bag. I recognize the store logo from the side because I just walked past the boutique on my way here from my car.

I stand up and head over to where I saw Dr. Saber disappear when he went to wash his hands. As suspected, it is a personal bathroom, except it is way bigger and nicer than even my en suite at my townhouse. I close the door and start undressing. Tucked inside the paper bag, I pull out a beautiful long-sleeved, striped wrap dress. The colors are vibrant but tasteful. Despite being a bit bold for my particular style, the dress fits wonderfully and is very flattering. I love it.

I try to secure the inside button that holds the inner panel flat; however, my bandage does not allow me to bend my fingers without causing a pulling sensation to my wound. Ouch.

“Let me just help you, baby. I hear you struggling in there.”

“I’m fine.”

“Please just accept help.”

“I amfine, I said.”

“No woman ever is actually fine, despite how many times she uses the word.”

I giggle and continue to try to secure the button. “How are you so knowledgeable on my gender?” I call through the door.

“You ladies are the easiest species to figure out. You never mean what you say. And you never listen when you should.”

“Wow. You sound bitter.”

“I am.”

After several minutes of failed attempts, I open the door with my left hand and lock eyes with Graham who is waiting patiently for me to come out.

“Did you plan for me to need you? Make sure your henchman finds the most difficult outfit to put on with a stitched-up hand?”

He coughs to cover a laugh. “You give me too much credit,” he says softly, fastening the button and then tying the long fabric tie into a bow at my hip. His hand lingers there a little longer than necessary. He is barely touching my hip bone, and yet all my nerve endings are jolted awake. “If I wanted you to struggle, I would have gotten you an outfit with hundreds of buttons and snaps and random zippers and corset strings to lace.”

I burst out laughing when his eyebrows wiggle with humor.

“Next time,” I say without thinking.

His megawatt smile makes me know he caught my slipup too.

“Thanks for rescuing me today and getting a doctor to fix me up. But the reason I came here in the first place was to return your latest gift.”

I search the room for my bag and see it resting on Graham’s desk. I make my way over to it and notice the framed picture of us. It’s the selfie we took on our first date outside of the restaurant. I look happy. Carefree almost. It hurts my heart to see something that reminds me of a time not long ago when things were still easy. Nothing is easy now. So much has happened in two months’ time that has left me feeling the aftershocks of the earthquake that is Graham Hoffman.

“Angie…” Graham starts but trails off.

I pull out the little black envelope from my bag. “Here,” I say softly. “Thank you for trying to take care of me, but I’m not yours to take care of. Please accept that. The more you push, the more I want to run.” He doesn’t reach out for the credit card, so I place it on the smooth surface of his desk.

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