Hiring Mr. Darcy - Valerie Bowman Page 0,33

only about themselves had caused me to think only about myself because...survival, and it was a sore spot with me.

“Don’t make this into me being selfish, Harrison.” The shrink had also told me that it would be a lifelong struggle for me to recognize when people were treating me poorly vs. me just thinking it was normal treatment. This sure felt like being treated badly to me. See? I hadn’t wasted the money I’d spent on therapy after all, no matter what Tom Cruise said.

“I’m sorry,” Harrison replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. He chewed and swallowed before adding, “I know it must sting. I know you’re disappointed. But Dr. Holmes agreed it would be better for the department if Lacey participates with me instead of you, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I agree with him.”

Harrison was always logical. It was another one of the things that had attracted me to him. He wasn’t flaky like my dad. My dad couldn’t be counted on to pay his rent. Harrison, on the other hand, could be counted on to eat the same lunch every day, never have a wrinkle in clothing or a hair out of place, and always tell you the truth instead of what you wanted to hear. I’d admired that in him...until today.

But the rational side of my own brain took over then. I’d already worked out the fact that I wasn’t hurt because I disagreed that Lacey and Harrison teaming up for the competition wouldn’t be best for the department. I was hurt because I’d worked so damned hard, but mostly I was hurt because I’d been expecting a frickin’ proposal that night. And Harrison hadn’t even seemed to notice. That’s what hurt. I’d also been through enough therapy to know that I needed to woman-up and say as much. Only, it was going to be awkward. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“I agree,” I began. “You and Lacey attending the festival together makes sense for the department.”

“See. I knew you’d be reasonable after you had time to think about it.” He smiled benignly and took another bite of his sandwich. “Believe me, if she wanted to partner with you and go as Marianne and Elinor from Sense and Sensibility, I would understand.”

Of course he would. He didn’t have a dramatic bone in his body. Meanwhile, my drama (and imagination) knew few bounds.

“What if I told you that I think Lacey wants you two to be more than friends?” I couldn’t help myself. The words seemed to fly out of my mouth of their own accord.

Harrison gave me a look that clearly indicated that he thought I was being ludicrous again. “Lacey and I are in a business relationship, Meg. We’re both professionals.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So, she hasn’t done anything to make you think she wants you?”

His brows knitted into an immediate frown. “What? No! I thought we already covered this the other night.”

Very well. I’d heard what I needed to hear. It was time to come clean. “I had to make sure because...” Okay, now that the words needed to come out of my mouth, they were even more difficult to say than I’d guessed they would be.

“Because?” Harrison prompted, leaning toward me and studying my face. He’d finished his sandwich and was moving on to his soup. He always ate this meal in that order. I didn’t know why. I felt strongly that soup should be eaten first because it loses heat, but I’d never shared my thoughts on the subject with him.

I took a deep, fortifying breath and left my spoon sticking upright in my soup. “Because I thought you were going to propose on Friday night,” I blurted.

Harrison’s face was completely blank. Too blank. And white. Like the kind of white your face might turn when you’ve seen a ghost. Not that I’d ever seen a ghost, but it was a cliché for a reason. “Propose,” he repeated. The word was uttered neither as a question nor a statement. It was more like a vocabulary word, or like he was about to spell it in a spelling bee.

“Yes. Propose,” I echoed, a little perturbed. Fine, I’d misread the situation and he obviously hadn’t been about to propose, but he didn’t need to pronounce it like that.

“Oh, Meg, I...I don’t know what to say.”

“I’ll take that to mean you weren’t about to propose,” I said, before shoving a quarter of a baguette into my craw to comfort myself.

“It’s not