Allister had been back for five minutes and already believed he had my story all figured out. I hated how he made my life seem so transparent . . . so trivial.
I struggled to keep up with his long strides while simultaneously dodging every New York City pothole in my thigh-high boots. I ended up walking a step behind him, fully immersed in his shadow. How apt it seemed regarding our relationship.
“You changed your hair,” he said softly.
I absently touched the dark locks that were my natural color. He always noticed when I did something with my hair. I hated that it made me feel special.
“Yes. I tried to get over you with a makeover. Three years is just too long to wait for a phone call.”
“Ah, I wondered how you were faring.”
“I won’t dye it back for you either. Being blonde is exhausting. I had way too much fun.”
“So I’ve heard.”
I tensed. I had a feeling he was talking about the last time I’d been arrested shortly after he’d disappeared three years ago. There was nothing I could say to explain myself, and then I remembered I didn’t have to care about what he thought of me.
“You seem to have heard a lot about me,” I mused.
“I’m informed about all the disasters in the New York City area.”
“Good to know I’m up there with hurricanes and terrorist attacks.” I stepped over a banana peel. “So, what unfortunate circumstance brought you back from . . .?”
“Seattle.”
“Seattle, then?”
“Business.”
“A man of few answers,” I murmured.
“Few words,” he corrected.
His eyes found mine as we reached his car, and just the look sent my heart flipping in my chest. It had been a long time since I’d seen him. But a prickling feeling on the back of my neck made me believe this wasn’t the first time he’d seen me in three years. Though, if he’d been in New York—anywhere in my vicinity—I couldn’t have missed him. Not with this web of electricity between us that always strummed when he was near. What concerned me was, on the other end of a web often lay a spider in wait to devour its prey.
I swallowed and slid into my seat.
A tense air filled the space, shortening my breath. A feeling that he was going to touch me . . . or hurt me. I trusted the man about as far as I could throw him—a negative number of inches—and a nervous energy coursed through my veins.
Should’ve tried my luck with Asics.
“So . . . how long are you going to be in town?” I asked.
“Why? Counting the days?”
“You know me so well, Officer. We should play The Newlywed Game.” I began to apply some lip gloss just because I needed to do something with my hands.
“You’d think they’d have a requirement for contestants to at least know each other’s names,” he said dryly.
“You always were a stickler for the rules, weren’t you, Christian?”
The look he gave me reminded of the heat in his eyes as I’d sat spread-eagled on his bathroom counter. I glanced away and tried to calm my racing heart.
He took me home. He never asked for my address, and I wasn’t surprised. Allister seemed to know everything he shouldn’t.
“No ring?” he drawled, glancing at my bare finger. “And here I was, sure this marriage would be the one to last.” He was mocking me.
I wouldn’t be married now if he hadn’t disappeared while I was still naked in his bed. I knew it deep inside. Things would’ve been different if he had stayed. But he didn’t. He didn’t care enough. And over the years, I’d begun to resent him for it. He didn’t want me—he’d made that abundantly clear—yet he had to torment me about my relationship, as nonexistent and embarrassing as it was.