Page 41 of Fighting Words

“No.” I swallow, aware of my racing heart and the fact that I can only say this if my gaze is glued to the table. “I’d like to look over those notes you brought with you.”

Her head whips in my direction, and I glance up in time to witness unabashed hope light up her features. It’s gone too fast, replaced with skepticism.

“For ten minutes?” she asks drolly.

“No. We’ll work all morning. I need to do a few things this afternoon.”

She absorbs this with a slow, tentative nod before she walks over to get her coffee. When she’s filled up her mug and added a heaping amount of cream, she claims the seat across from me. Her booklet is still on the table where she left it yesterday.

“Before we begin, I’m sorry about last night,” she says, her eyes down on her mug.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I used some…colorful words.”

“Fuck?”

Her gaze whips up to me and she smiles.

“Ass?”

She groans and covers her face with her hand. “Did I say that as well? I forgot that part. I did have two glasses of wine with dinner—I’d like to put that on record.”

“Let the official record reflect Summer’s two glasses of wine,” I say, as if talking to a court stenographer just to my left.

She laughs, and I feast on it.

My tone turns somber as I continue, “Also, what you said about your family…I’m sorry you’re in that position.”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll come around eventually, them and Andrew.”

“Andrew?”

She startles as if surprised. “Oh, he’s the guy I’ve been dating the last few years. Not consistently, but yeah.” She cringes. “I guess it’s complicated.”

“And you two are together now?” I’d like clarity on that.

“No. We’ve agreed to see other people, but I spoke to him yesterday. He’s still in my life.”

“Have you seen other people?”

“Like gone on dates?” The idea amuses her, as if that could never happen. “No.”

Now I’m too curious to stop. I tilt my head and study her. “Because you’re hoping you two will get back together?”

She swallows, and then, realizing she’s been neglecting her coffee, she stalls by taking a sip. She only answers after she’s done. “Because no one has asked me out, to be honest.”

I nearly snort. “I find that hard to believe.”

Her green eyes flare with annoyance. “Well, it’s true. I don’t really put myself out there, and the breakup is relatively fresh, only a few months old.” She frowns hearing herself. Is a few months fresh? Not really. Understanding that, she adds, “I’ve been busy with work, busy preparing to come here.”

“Do you miss him?”

Her blush finally reaches her cheeks. “Why all the questions?”

I shake my head, only now realizing I’ve been giving her the third degree. I lean forward and reach for the booklet. “Just curious.”

“What about you?”

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