Cross My Hart (The Notorious Harts 1) - Page 43

She shoots me a droll look. ‘I think I can manage.’

She does—after four missed swings.

It putts onto the green. She lifts a hand for a high-five. I return it, fighting myself the whole time, not to drag her into my arms right here.

‘Who screwed you over?’ she asks as we move back to my ball.

‘Huh?’ I’m jarred out of the moment, lifting my gaze to her face. ‘When?’

‘On the plane over, you said I’d been screwed by an ex, you’d been screwed by an ex, so we should just screw each other.’ She lifts her eyes to mine. ‘Who’s your ex?’

I forgot I said that. I don’t particularly want to think about Lorena right now. The green darkens as a cloud moves overhead, blocking the sun.

‘Come on. You’ve psychoanalysed Gareth. Let me do the same.’

‘I don’t need your help to psychoanalyse Lorena.’

I don’t even like saying her name aloud.

‘Did she cheat on you?’

My hand grips the golf club tighter. I swing for the ball—too hard. It sails past the hole.

‘No.’

‘You’re still angry with her.’

It’s not a question. Grace is seeing into my soul in that way she has—that way I don’t completely like. ‘No.’

‘Sure. You sound the complete opposite of angry.’

My laugh is humourless. ‘My divorce came through just over a week ago. I’m allowed to still have feelings about that.’

‘Feelings for her?’

The question is flat, her voice almost a monotone. That’s what tips me off—she’s trying too hard to smother everything out of her tone. I shoot my eyes to her, a frown on my face. Her expression is as blank as her voice.

‘Not good ones.’

She stares into my eyes for a long time and I don’t look away.

‘Why? What happened?’

She turns to the golf course, eyeing up the positions of our balls. We begin to walk back to

the buggy.

She sighs. ‘Okay. Let’s start with easier questions. How long were you married?’

‘A year.’

She stops walking. ‘Just a year?’

Without knowing it, she’s echoed my biggest criticism of myself. ‘About eleven and a half months too long,’ I quip.

‘But you married her. So you must have loved her. What happened?’

‘Haven’t we already decided love is juvenile?’

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