Chapter 91 (1/2)

I stare at her for too long, and she shifts back and forth under my stare. I love the way she’s dressed today—flat shoes, a pink tank top, and a skirt covered in flowers. Fucking beautiful, that’s what she is.

“Lunch instead?” I ask, not wanting to be away from her at all today.

“Kimberly made breakfast?” she whispers to me.

“So? It’s probably shitty anyway.” I wave at the food covering the counter. It doesn’t look bad, I guess. But she’s no Karen.

“Don’t say that.” Tessa smiles, and I almost repeat the sentence to earn another smile.

“Fine. We will take a plate to go and then can toss it when we get outside?” I suggest.

She ignores me, but I hear her telling Kimberly to save some leftovers for us to eat later.

Hardin, 1.

Kimberly and her shitty food and annoying questions, 0.

THE DRIVE through downtown Seattle isn’t as bad as usual. Tessa is quiet, like I knew she would be. I feel her eyes on me every few minutes, but every time I look at her, she quickly turns away.

For lunch, I choose a small, modern-style restaurant, and when we pull into a nearly empty lot, I know this means one of two things: either they just opened minutes ago and the crowd hasn’t started yet, or the food is shit so no one eats here. Hoping for the first, we go through the glass doors and Tessa’s eyes study the place. The decor is nice, whimsical, and she seems to like it, which reminds me just how much I love her reaction to the simplest things.

Hardin, 2.

Not that I’m keeping score or anything . . .

But if I were . . . I’d be winning.

We sit in silence while we wait to place our orders. The waiter is a young college kid who’s nervous and has some sort of eye-contact issue. He doesn’t seem to want to look into my eyes, the asshole.

Tessa orders something that I’ve never heard of, and I order the first thing I see on the menu that I have. A pregnant woman is seated at the table next to us, and I watch Tessa stare at the woman for just a beat too long.

“Hey.” I clear my throat to get her attention. “I don’t know if you even remember what I said last night, but if you do, I’m sorry. When I said I didn’t want a baby with you, I just meant I don’t want kids at all. But who knows”—my heart begins to pound against my ribs—“maybe one day or something.”

I can’t believe I just said that, and by Tessa’s expression, she can’t either. Her mouth is wide-open and her hand is in the air, holding her glass of water.