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I inhaled sharply at his blunt statement. “Oh my God.” I just couldn’t imagine Shay punching anyone. Sure, he was a big guy with a muscular physique, but he was also incredibly restrained. It was hard to envision him losing his cool.
“I didn’t do it because of Emer. I did it because of the misunderstanding he caused with you and me. I hate him for doing that to us. I also hate myself for being an impulsive idiot and jumping to conclusions.”
Was it messed up that my heart softened to hear his reason?
“Is he going to press charges?” I asked, worried.
“I doubt it. Nigel’s a dick, but he’s not that much of a dick. Deep down and man to man, he knows he deserved it.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said, not enjoying the idea of the Gards showing up at Shay’s door. It again reinforced how much I still loved him, despite everything that happened yesterday.
Setting his phone down, Shay put the car in gear. A moment later, he pulled out onto the road. The radio was on low, but the silence between us felt thick. On one level, I wanted to lash out at him, ask how he could’ve possibly imagined there was anything between Nigel and me. The very notion was absurd.
On the other hand, he was being so sweet and considerate that morning it was hard to stay angry at him. He’d punched his ex-best friend for me. I might not have condoned the violence, but I knew it represented the intensity of his feelings for me, for what we had, because I felt that same intensity.
Leaning forward, I delicately lifted the coffee and took a sip. Then I checked the bag, my stomach rumbling when I saw the pecan and maple pastry. I’d been too stressed that morning to eat, and now, I was suddenly famished.
Shay glanced at me briefly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw I’d accepted his offerings.
“This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. I’m still mad at you,” I said quietly after taking a small bite from the pastry.
Shay gave a nod, his expression sobering as he focused on the road. The heavy morning traffic made the journey longer than it might have taken in the bus lane, but at least that way, I was warm and toasty in the car, and I didn’t have to listen to other people chattering or bickering or playing music out loud on their phones.
Shay pulled up outside my work and cut the engine. His hands flexed on the steering wheel as he turned his head, casting his gaze on me.
“You’re a good driver,” I said, breaking the quiet. “Why do you always take the bus?”
His expression morphed into something truly intense. It made my neck feel hot.
He started to sign very slowly, allowing me a better chance to translate.
Because … it means … I get to … spend time with you.
Was that what he said? My cheeks flushed, heart pounding. His eyes searched mine, trying to determine whether I understood. Not wanting to deal with the emotions his statement brought forth, I scrambled for my bag.
“I think I need more practice,” I whispered, clearing my throat and glancing away. “Thank you for the coffee and the pastry. I better get inside, or I’ll be late.”
With that, I scurried from the car. My cheeks were blasted with chilly air before the welcome heat when I stepped inside the building. I headed to my office and fired up the computer, finding a voice message from Therese. She verbally listed out everything I needed to do for the day. I was struck by her thoughtfulness. Anyone else would’ve left me a written list, which would’ve been way more stressful.
About five minutes before my lunch break, there was a knock on my office door. Thinking it was Therese coming to check in on me, I called for her to enter. The door opened, and Shay appeared. I immediately stood, flustered by his sudden presence.
“Shay, what are you—”
“I wanted to take you to lunch if you’re free?” he typed into his phone, and my hostility cracked further. Why did he have to be so sweet? The urge to forgive him ate at my resolve.
I pressed my lips together, my expression apologetic. “I can’t, but it’s only because I already agreed to have lunch with Jonathan. We’re going to finally have that talk.”
Shay nodded in understanding, though he did look a bit disappointed. “Right. Maybe I can take you to lunch tomorrow, then?”
“Sure,” I replied, and he brightened, his eyes intent on me. He barely glanced at his phone, his fingers typing instinctively.
“It’s a date, then.” He paused, still gazing at me. “You’re so beautiful. I wish I could kiss you.”
A swirl of conflicting emotions seized my lungs. I stepped closer to him and reached up to cup his cheek. “I’m not there yet,” I told him quietly, and he closed his eyes, seeming to melt into my touch. “But soon. Probably.”
