Page 28 of Crossing the Line
Let’s Make a Deal
Paisley Grove
The mild sun warms my crossed arms as Hercules and I stroll up the avenue. Getting far away from that overly air-conditioned room and those proceedings is just what the doctor ordered. However, I’m embarrassed about my minor breakdown in the end. I have no idea where that came from. I must have some suppressed emotions that I’m not dealing with. Actually, I know for certain I have suppressed emotions that I do not want to pull to the surface.
“Better?” Hercules asks.
I glance at him, happy he’s with me. I press my lips into a contented smile and nod.
“Good. I’m glad you’re better.” He studies me for a long while, and I can tell he wants to say something. We have Lauren to talk about, and I’m about to bring her up first when he says, “You were dancing with your lawyer last night at the party.”
I’ve had enough conversations with Hercules by now to recognize that he had not asked a question but made a statement.
“He must be Lake’s friend,” I say. “I think she knows the whole damn city.”
“He likes you, PG. But I don’t like him.”
I sigh, amused. “You can’t be jealous. Like, seriously, you have no right to be.”
We’re in Midtown, heading east toward Eighth Avenue. Hercules continues watching me. He seems absorbed in his thoughts. “I’m sure you heard Achilles mention Lauren.”
I’m relieved that he said something about his fiancée before I could. “I heard.”
“Lauren and I are fifth cousins. And…” He squeezes his eyes tight as though he regrets what he wants to say next.
“You’re engaged to her,” I say, letting him off the hook.
“I am.” All the breath seems to leave his body. “But who told you?”
“Perhaps you should’ve.”
Hercules runs his fingers through his hair. “I was going to tell you.”
“When?” I snap.
He’s silent for a moment and then asks, “Did Lake tell you?”
Even though this conversation strikes me like a two-by-four to the head, I keep it together. “I’d better show you something.”
I take my cellphone out of my purse and call up the alert Lake sent me this morning. We stop walking while Hercules reads it. Oddly, he’s smirking, amused. Nodding while reading, he says, “That was good.” Then his eyebrows shoot up as he glances at me.
I try to appear as unfazed by his brazen flirting as possible. I can’t be taken in by Hercules’s allure. He’s engaged.
He hands my phone back to me. “I’m not engaged to her by choice, and I’m not going to go through with it.”
He sounds so sure of himself, almost like he’s hopelessly trying to convince himself that he’s not obligated to marry a woman he apparently doesn’t love.
“Then you’re breaking off the engagement?” I ask, testing his resolve.
He looks bitter, almost angry as he glares ahead of us. “I’ve never officially asked her to marry me. I was just told I would. There’s not even supposed to be a ceremony. It’s all supposed to occur on paper. Not so romantic, is it?”
Frowning, I say, “You said ‘supposed’ twice.”
Hercules barely shakes his head. He really looks angry about having to marry Lauren.
“Is that even legal?”
Hercules’s jaw grows tense, and he watches me, blinking. The blood has drained from his face. And I’ve seen this worried expression before. He used to look that way a lot in high school.
