Page 139 of Rough Around the Hedges

“I don’t care about that,” I muttered, letting the weight of my head rest in his hand. “I already told you that was hot.”

His lips twitched. “Then what is it? Did I forget to reply to you? Miss a call? Take too long to come and see you?”

Again, I said nothing.

What could I say? No matter how I worded it in my mind, it sounded petty and childish.

His jealousy was hot, but my jealousy was ridiculous.

That was girl math.

I didn’t make the rules.

“Ahh. Did you see pictures of the event on Saturday night?”

I dropped my gaze.

“Rose.” My name was but a murmur on his lips as he touched the tip of his nose to mine. “Are you jealous, princess?”

“Jealous? In your dreams,” I lied, even as my stomach twisted. “Why would I be jealous of your almost ex-fiancée hanging off your arm and hanging out with your mother?”

He laughed quietly, then cupped my face, laying his palms on my cheeks. He forced me to meet his eyes, and my gaze hardened as it skittered across his soft smile.

“Let it go,” he said softly. “Whatever it is you need to say to me, let it out, okay?”

I shoved his hands away from me and scooted back on the sofa, putting some distance between us. “You spent all that time on the phone to me telling me not to touch other men, not to laugh at them, not to smile at them, and what do I see the next day? You doing just that with other women! Hours later!”

The words spilled out of me. Every ounce of jealousy, every inch of frustration, every little drop of anger and sadness that was coiled inside of me bubbled up and tipped over, and I tore into him for his hypocrisy, for his gall, for his sheer audacity.

And he took it.

He sat there, silently, listening. He didn’t argue, he didn’t try to make me stop, he didn’t do anything. He simply listened, taking every emotional word I tossed his way.

And it made it harder.

Because I knew he cared.

He cared about how he’d made me feel.

That was the worst part. With every second of patience that he gave me, my words grew a little quieter, a little calmer, my anger a little weaker. Even though I was repeating myself over and over again, saying the same thing but in different ways, he never once told me to stop.

When I finally did, he merely looked at me with a small smile and said, “Feel better now?”

I couldn’t help but nod, because I did.

He opened his arms in a wordless question, and despite myself, I moved closer to him. I fell stiffly against his chest, and he wrapped those warm arms around me. He tucked my head under his chin, cradling the back of it with his large hand, and we sank back into the sofa cushions together.

I closed my eyes, resting my legs over his and curling into his embrace. I’d missed this almost as much as I’d missed us trading barbs at one another. This part of us that nobody else could know about, this soft, stillness that sent waves of comfort through me, was what I’d been craving after seeing those pictures.

I’d been craving him.

The gentle reassurance of his grip, not so tight that I couldn’t breathe, but tight enough that I knew there was no way he’d let me go.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into my hair. “You’re absolutely right in everything you said. I asked things of you when it was a standard that I didn’t hold myself to, and that isn’t fair.”

“I get it. That’s your world. I just—”

“There is no ‘my’ world, Rose. There’s just a world, and we’re both in it.” He nuzzled into my hair, drawing me even closer to him. “If it makes you feel any better, I was thinking of you the whole time. Mostly that you’d wonder where all the plants were, if everyone was in heels or secretly wearing trainers under their dresses, or why all these people were bidding on flashy jewels or holidays when you could spend that money helping kids get closer to nature.”

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