Page 26 of Flame
He nods. “Okay. Do you want to run to the store and pick up a few things?”
I don’t. I want to sit here and look at him, wait for him to remember that I’m not his enemy. I’m not someone who is happy staying on the other side of the wall he’s built around himself. That at one point a few months ago, things between us were … special.
At least, to me.He walked away as if there was nothing between us at all. I frown.Maybe I need to adjust my thinking, too.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” I say instead.
He holds the door open for me, and I walk out of the house.
CHAPTER6
Bianca
“What’s wrong?” Foxx asks, grabbing a shopping cart at the front of the store.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re looking around like you’ve never been in a grocery store before.”
I wait for him to untangle the cart from the others and join me before I answer. Finally, he frees the buggy—not without more than a few profanities muttered under his breath—and meets me at the apples.
“I don’t know the last time I was in a grocery store,” I say, falling in step with him. “It’s the little things in life that you don’t realize you’ve missed so much until you do them again.”
“Do you remember how to do this? Or do you need a refresher?”
I bump him with my shoulder. “Are you being cheeky, Mr. Carmichael?”
He tries to appear unamused, but there’s the faintest twinkle in his eyes.Thank God.
The ride to the store was quiet. Foxx seemed preoccupied—somber but not grumpy. He glanced at me over his shoulder now and then, his brows pulled together. I didn’t push or crack a joke. I just sat still, giving him a small smile when I caught his eye and gave him room to work out whatever was going through his head.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot, his shoulders were much more relaxed. The lines around his eyes had lessened. And he’d stopped clenching the steering wheel so hard that I could see the whites of his knuckles.
I want to ask what was bothering him. But, knowing Foxx, he would just retreat further inside himself.
I pick up a bundle of bananas and put them into the cart. “I’ve been having groceries delivered or having Astrid pick things up for me. And I’ve been ordering out a lot—too much, really.”
“Have you been taking care of yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
He reaches for a bin of blueberries. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
He adds the berries to the cart and exhales.
“What do you mean, Foxx?”
We move lazily down the aisle. I’m curious about what he has to say.What does he know about me taking care of myself? He hasn’t been around in months. He has no idea what my life looks like now.
“I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately,” he says carefully. “The stress. The pressure. Not wanting to let your family down and thinking it all rides on you to some extent.”
Well, you nailed that. I grab the edge of the cart handle, refusing to look at him.
“I wonder if you’ve been getting enough sleep. If you’ve had Troy or whoever is with you, stop to get you a cheeseburger and milkshake sometimes.”
His voice is steady, but his tone is soft. It’s as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear him besides me.
