Page 21 of When We Were More
Oh. My. God. I’m sure I’ve soaked my panties through at this point. We stare at each other, both of us breathing heavily, whichsurprises me because he’s made it clear he isn’t interested in me. Except at this moment, it positively seems like he is.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice is raspy, the words catching as they leave my mouth.
“Doing what?” One of his hands moves to my side, and he lightly grips my flesh with his fingers while his thumb strokes me achingly slowly.
“You know what. You don’t even find me attractive.”
His hand freezes, and his body tenses.
“What are you talking about, Matilda? I find you so attractive, it fucking drives me crazy.”
“Don’t lie to me, Henry.”
He steps back, and I immediately miss his touch.
“That’s twice you’ve accused me of lying. Care to tell me why the hell you believe you know what I think about you better than I do?”
Now I’m irritated. I’m not stupid.
“Sure, Henry. I’ll tell you. How about the disgust on your face the day I wore two different-colored shoes, and you watched me waddle down the stairs? You were clearly judging me.”
“The fuck I was, woman! I was watching you, yes, but it was because your fucking body drives me wild. I was gawking at you, not judging you. And you don’t waddle. Don’t say that shit about yourself.”
“Oh really, then why the comments about Jake not wanting to date someone like me?”
“I never said that.”
“You did, ‘he’s twenty-five, Tillie,’” I mimic his voice. “As if he’s too young and too attractive to be interested in me.” Heat spreads across my cheeks and I’m sure they’re red.
“You’re putting words in my mouth. I simply meant, why would you be interested in a twenty-five-year-old? What doesa kid that age have to offeryou? Jesus, someone sure must’ve done a number on you for you to be this cynical.”
He hit the wrong button. Like the nuclear war starting button. I push him away, and because he’s not expecting it, his body moves far enough away that I can slip past him.
“Go to hell, Henry.” I storm off, upset, and grab my keys, bag, and wallet from the front foyer. I’m in the car and pulling out when I see him come around the back of my house. In my rearview mirror, I see him grab his hair with both hands and kick at the ground. None of that matters, though. I keep going.
I drive for a mile or two until I’m sure he’s not following me, then I pull off to the side of the road. That’s when the tears fall. Fast and heavy. Tears of frustration, hurt, and embarrassment long held under the surface.
I want to be mad at Henry for his words. But what I’m really upset about is how accurate they were.
CHAPTER 11
Henry
With the kids down for the night, I open a beer, unlock the front door for when my brothers arrive, and then collapse into the recliner by the fireplace. I stare at the crackling red flames, rehashing this afternoon with Matilda. I’m pissed at myself for losing control with her today and letting my desire for her consume me.
This is not my style. I don’t lose control. Ever. I can’t afford to. I’ve got my kids, my mom and siblings, our company, and employees depending on me. I have too many people to take care of to get sloppy.
But I’m not only mad at myself. I’m upset with Matilda, as well. Why the woman would think any man is not attracted to her is beyond me. It makes me crazy. I was close to kissing her before she started saying all that ridiculous stuff about herself, and we got into a fight. Hell, I wanted to kiss her until all her self-doubts burned to ash.
Then I lost control a second time and said such a shitty thing to her. If I hadn’t seen the hurt flash in her eyes a split second before she pushed me away, I might’ve believed that I’d onlypissed her off. But that’s not true, I hurt her, and I feel like a giant asshole.
It isn’t until movement in my peripheral vision catches my eye, and I glance over to see Harrison walking in my door, that I can get her off my mind.
“Grabbing a beer.” It’s all he says before disappearing into the kitchen. He’s back quickly and plops into the chair across from me with an exaggerated sigh. “I brought you another stack of documents to review.”
“Gee, thanks. More work from home,” I deadpan.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re suddenly spending so much time during the day atonejob site instead of going through important documents for the multi-million-dollar company you co-own.”
