After We Fell (After 3) - Chapter 193

“Nothing,” she lies, faking a smile.

“Tell me, now.”

“Children are something we shouldn’t discuss, remember?”

“I agree . . . So let’s cut out the middleman and get your ass on birth control so we don’t have to ever talk or worry about children again.”

“I’ll find a clinic to go to today so that your future isn’t in jeopardy,” she flatly remarks.

I’ve made her upset, but there really isn’t a nice way for me to tell her that she needs to get on birth control if she’s going to be fucking me multiple times a day whenever we’re near each other.

After making a few phone calls, she announces, “I have an appointment Monday.”

“Good.” I run my hand over my hair before placing it back onto her thigh.

I turn on the radio and follow the directions on my phone to the nearest mall.

BY THE TIME we’ve walked around the mall once, I’m bored out of my mind with Seattle. The only thing keeping me entertained is Tessa. Even when she’s quiet, I can read her thoughts just by watching her expressions. I watch her watch people as they rush through the mall. She frowns when an angry mother swats her child’s ass in the middle of a store, and I guide her out before the scene—and her reaction to it—get out of hand. We have lunch at a quiet pizza parlor, and Tessa fills the entire meal with talk about a new book series she’s been thinking about reading. I know how judgmental she can be about modern novels, so this surprises and intrigues me.

“I’ll have to download them when I get my e-reader back from you,” she says, swiping a napkin across her mouth. “I can’t wait to have my bracelet back, too. And the letter.”

I force myself not to panic and shove almost an entire piece of pizza into my mouth so I’m unable to respond. I can’t tell her I destroyed it, so I’m really grateful when she moves to another subject.

The day ends with Tessa falling asleep in the car. She’s made a habit of that lately, and for some reason, I love it. I take the long way back to the house, just like I did the last time.

TESSA’S ALARM didn’t wake me, and neither did she. I’m less than pleased that I didn’t get to see her before she left this morning, especially since she’ll be gone all day. When I glance at the clock on the wall, it shows almost noon; at least she’ll be taking lunch soon.

I dress quickly and leave the house for the new Vance Publishing branch office. It’s strange to think that I could be working there with her, the two of us driving to work together each morning, making the drive back home together . . . we could actually live together again.

Space, Hardin, she wants space. I laugh at the idea; we aren’t giving each other any space, really—only three days a week, tops. What we’re doing is just making seeing each other more of a pain in the ass, with the excessive driving and distance.

When I get inside the building, I find that the Seattle office is fucking outrageously lavish. It’s much bigger than the shit office I worked at. I don’t miss working in a stuffy cubicle, that’s for damned sure, but this place is nice. Vance wouldn’t allow me to work from home. It was Brent, my boss at Bolthouse, that recommended I do my work for him from my living room in order to “keep the peace.” It works out perfectly for me, even more so now that Tessa’s in Seattle, so joke is on those overly sensitive fucks in the office.

I’m surprised when I don’t get lost in this maze of a fucking building.

When I reach the reception area, Kimberly beams at me from behind her desk. “Hello. How may I help you?” she says with emphasis, showing me her ability to remain professional.

“Where’s Tessa?”

“In her office,” she says, dropping the facade.

“And that is . . .” I lean against the wall and wait for her to show me to Tessa.

“Down the hall. Her name is on the plate outside.” She glances back to her computer screen, dismissing me. Rude.

What exactly does Vance pay her to do? Whatever it is, it must be worth it for him to be able to fuck her on a constant and keep him nearby during the day. I shake my head, ridding it of the images of the two of them.

“Thanks for your help,” I gripe and head down the long narrow hallway.

When I reach Tessa’s office, I open the door without knocking. The room is empty. I reach into my pocket and grab my phone to call her; seconds later I hear a rattling noise and see her phone vibrating on her desk. Where the hell is she?

I go down the hallway in search of her. I know Zed is in town, and that has me seeing red. I swear to fucking . . .

“Hardin Scott?” a woman’s voice asks from behind me as I turn and enter what looks like a small break room.

I turn around to find a familiar face. “Um . . . hey?” I can’t remember where I’ve seen her before, but I know that I have. Realization hits me when she’s joined by another woman. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. The universe is playing a sick fucking joke on me, and it’s pissing me the fuck off.

Tabitha grins at me. “Well . . . well . . . well . . .”

Tessa’s tales of woe about two bitchy office bullies make so much more sense now.

Since clearly neither of us is going to stand on ceremony, I just say, “You’re the one giving Tessa shit, aren’t you.” If I had any idea that Tabitha had transferred to the Seattle office, I’d have known instantly that she was the bitch in question. She was known for that back when I worked for Vance, and I’m sure she hasn’t changed.