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He shakes his head. “She’s with someone.”
“Do I know her?” I wonder if she works at Kia Kaha. Rachel, on reception? Or Clara, from accounts? She’s gorgeous. Oh God, don’t let it be Clara…
He meets my gaze again, though, and just tips his head to the side and gives me a look that’s part exasperated, part amused.
I stare at him. And slowly, my jaw drops. “You don’t mean… me?”
Chapter Four
Henry
I can see the exact moment the penny drops. It’s as if someone’s struck a match behind her eyes, and they flare with understanding.
“Of course it’s you,” I say. “It’s always been you. Don’t tell me you had no idea.”
She shakes her head. “I thought maybe… but I didn’t know…” She couldn’t have looked more shocked if I’d stripped naked and run around the apartment with my tackle hanging out.
Ah, shit. She really hadn’t guessed. And now the toothpaste is out of the tube, and it’s not going back in.
We stare at each other for a long, long time. I have no idea what’s going through her mind. Over the years I’ve seen her upset, puzzled, amused, indignant, and furious, but I can’t tell from her expression now which of those she’s feeling. Maybe all of them. Will she throw the gin in my face? Get up and leave? Cry? Laugh at me?
She doesn’t do any of those things. She drops her gaze to her glass, finishes off the martini, then slides it over to me. “I think I’m going to need a lot more of those.”
Trying not to show my relief, and conscious of her watching me, I mix her another, pour it into her glass, then top up my whisky. We both have a big mouthful, our gazes meeting again. We’re sitting closer than we were before, not touching, with only six inches or so separating us. At least she hasn’t slapped me.
“Are you serious?” she asks eventually. “You’re not having me on?”
“No.”
“You… have feelings for me?”
“I’m in love with you,” I clarify. “I have been since the first time we met.”
Her eyebrows rise, and she inhales. “You’re in love with me?”
“Yeah.” I let that sink in for a moment.
I shouldn’t have told her. But although I’m blaming it on the alcohol, it’s not the whisky’s fault. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Eventually, I add, “Why else do you think Shaz and I broke up? She knew. She’s always known. I tried to ignore it because you were with Cam, and I’d already proposed to her, and I knew you and I couldn’t come to anything, but Shaz always knew.”
Juliette looks so shocked it makes me laugh.
“Don’t mock me,” she says indignantly.
“I’m sorry, but your face is a picture.” I force the smile away. “You really had no idea?”
She swallows hard. “I suppose I wondered, but I wasn’t sure. You never made it obvious.”
“Of course not. Alex would have hung, drawn, and quartered me. And…” I sigh. “You deserve better than me. I know you want children, and I can’t give them to you.”
Her expression softens. “So why have you told me now?”
I hold up the whisky glass and admire the amber Jameson. “Too much truth serum.”
She brushes a hand over her face. “I wish you hadn’t told me.”
It wasn’t what I expected her to say, and my heart sinks. She’s about to be kind to me, tell me thank you, and she appreciates the sentiment, but that she doesn’t feel the same way. Fuck, I think. Fuck, shit, arse. I’ve ruined everything.
Oh man. Alex is going to kill me.
