Much like before, my friend glanced up from his computer monitor and gave both Kat and me a smile. Luis hustled out from behind his station to greet us. In his hand was a bottle of champagne.
“Your friend is already with Mr. Lee. You two clean up well.” His eyes were on Kat as he handed her the bottle.
“Thank you. So much.” For the first time since we’d left the restaurant yesterday, I saw her face brighten and she grinned, moving forward to give Luis a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek. “This really wasn’t necessary.”
I noticed he hadn’t let her go. His hand had settled on the bare skin of her upper back. And . . . I was jealous.
Fuck.
I’d never been jealous in my life.
My sisters had dated jealous guys. I never wanted to be one of those guys. But here I was, one of those guys, and Kat and I weren’t even really together.
So fucked, Daniel. You are so incredibly fucked.
I suppressed the urge to break all the bones in Luis’s hand—because I was a motherfucking adult, thankyouverymuch—and instead cleared my throat. With meaning.
Luis glanced to me, a happy smile on his happy face. But then his smile dropped and so did his hands.
“Uh, Mr. Lee is expecting you. You’re the last ones he’s seeing today.” Luis took a step away from Kat, his eyes big and uneasy.
If my expression was anything like my mood, I understood why he was wearing his please don’t murder me face. Even so, and not allowing myself to think too much about the impulse, I stepped next to Kat and wrapped an arm around her, my hand settling on her waist.
“We’ll follow you.” I lifted my chin, indicating that Luis should lead the way, which he promptly did.
Kat and I followed, her stiffly walking by my side, while I cursed myself for being such a fucking idiot.
Over the course of our knowing each other, I figured we’d spent less than five hours total talking—including quick hellos and goodbyes—and maybe seventy-two hours in each other’s company, counting last week, yesterday, and today. Seventy-two hours. Mostly consisting of me watching her while she knitted and laughed with her friends. That’s it. Maybe less. Our conversation during lunch yesterday was the longest discussion we’d ever had, if you didn’t count what happened in Vegas.
For the record, I didn’t count what happened in Vegas. She’d been drunk for most of it.
How was it possible, then, that I’d be this worked up? That she’d been all I could think about over the last week? It didn’t make any sense. I needed to get this thing—this shitty feeling—under control, because not only was I making myself crazy, I was making her uncomfortable.
And that was bullshit.
Using a mental crowbar, I removed my hand from her back and scratched my neck, glancing at her profile as we walked and wracking my brain for something—anything—that might put her at ease.
Retracing our conversation yesterday, I knew the trouble between us had started when I’d made my request at the end of lunch—that she remain relationship-free during our marriage.
Maybe she thinks you’re judging her lifestyle?
That was a definite possibility, and I could see why that would piss Kat off, make her go all stiff and distant. After my big speech over sandwiches about how I didn’t want to look at the list on her phone, she probably thought I was a hypocrite.
We paused outside a set of double doors and Luis turned to us. “Just through here.”
“Thank you for your help,” she said, holding the champagne bottle to her chest. “I really appreciate everything.”
“No problem. Happy to do it. Oh, let me hold that for you, just until you’re finished.” Luis gave Kat one more quick grin, taking the bottle back.
She entered the room ahead of me and I turned to Luis.
“Thanks.” I gave him a conciliatory smile, reaching my hand out to shake his.
He accepted. We stared at each other for a second or two, working through my stupid moment from earlier. When he released the shake, I knew we were cool again, and I followed Kat.
The room wasn’t big. It wasn’t small. But medium didn’t seem to be the right word either. Whatever it was, the space resembled a small chapel, just without any religious affiliation.
Steven—who was there as our witness—and Kat stood just inside the door, next to a little circle table with a vase of fake flowers. A stained-glass window of geometric shapes was behind an older man hovering next to a small podium at the far side of the room.
The little old man, who I assumed was Mr. Lee, waved his hand, motioning us forward. “Come on in. I don’t bite.”
I nodded to Steven and then looked at Kat. She looked at me. She was nervous. Wanting to give her comfort, I smiled and offered my hand. She took it—thank fuck—and I exhaled a quiet sigh of relief as we walked forward together.