have no business feeling anything as it relates to this man.
Still, my hand doesn’t pull back, and, I realize belatedly … neither does his.
I lift my gaze to his and see something that looks like a flash of heat—if a bit angry heat—before he tugs the lemon out of my hand.
Clearing his throat, he adds a lemon twist to the cocktails with an adeptness that tells me I’m not the only one who knows his way around the home bar.
He hands me one of the glasses before lifting his own in a silent toast and taking a drink. “Not bad.”
“You sound surprised.”
He studies his drink for a moment. “No. Well. A little. I’ve never had a woman besides female bartenders make me a beverage.”
“And you thought we were incapable?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to—”
Colin reaches out and sets a single finger along the base of my cocktail glass, managing to tip it toward my face without spilling a single drop. “Shut up and drink your damn drink.”
I take a sip, not quite sure what to expect. “Oh! It’s good.”
“You sound surprised,” he says, mimicking my earlier statement.
I make a ha ha face then take another sip of the drink. “I didn’t know quite what to expect with the vodka and gin together, but it’s … pleasant, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. “Bond thought so.”
“So, is this your drink of choice?” I ask, settling on a barstool, determined to lure him into conversation, and maybe, just maybe—something resembling civility.
“I’ve been known to order it.”
“But is it your favorite?”
“What am I, twelve?”
“I didn’t ask you to please rate your favorite Power Rangers in reverse order,” I say, striving for patience. “I was just asking if this is your go-to drink order.”
“No.”
God give me strength.
“So what is your go-to drink order?”
“Are you always this talkative?”
“Yes. Most people find it extremely charming.”
“Most people aren’t married to you.”
“Only because I’ve been taken since I was twenty-one.” I flutter my eyelashes.
He rewards me with a very slight upward tilt of the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think that guy knew what he was getting into.”
“Oh, please. You’ve been dealing with me for all of one week. Don’t tell me that the twice annual emails or text messages over the past decade were too much for you to handle.”
“I survived.”
I spin my drink in a slow circle. “Why did we last so long, do you think?”
He gives a casual shrug. “I never really had reason to end it.”
“Until now.”
“Until now,” he agrees.
“What changed? I mean, I’m not complaining, I’m just curious.”
“I guess I realized I’m an adult. No longer a kid in need of a green card.”
“And I’m no longer a rebellious girl in need of her trust fund to escape her parents.”
“No. You’re not.”
I narrow my eyes because there’s a little something extra in his tone.
“What’s that I’m hearing?” I say. “Judgment? It sounds like judgment.”
“I just find it interesting that you’ve been in the city for a week and haven’t seen or spoken with your mother. Or father.”
“How do you know I haven’t called them? Or seen them?”
“Your mother told me.”
I nearly spit out my drink. “You talk to my mom? When?”
“She texted me yesterday when she hadn’t heard from you.”
“She texts?”
“Yes, Charlotte. Both of your parents are savvy enough to have mastered text messages. Something you might know had you taken the time to stay in touch this past decade.”
“Hey. My relationship with my parents is not your business. I don’t go around asking the last time you’ve seen your parents.”
His jaw tightens.
I give him a vaguely smug look. “So. Then you’re not really one to talk now, are you?”
He stares me down, and I stare right back, and damn it. He wins, because I cave.
“What did she want?” I ask.
“Your mother?”
I nod.
Colin shrugs. “She knows you’re back. Knows about our situation. Wanted to see how you were.”
“She could have called me,” I grumble.
“Would you have picked up?”
“Yes.” Maybe. Probably. Possibly not.
It’s not like I’ve had no contact with my parents. We’ve thawed slowly over the years, mostly due to my brother’s persistence. I call on birthdays. We talk on Christmas. I saw them at my grandmother’s funeral and at my brother’s wedding in the past couple of years.
It’s just … chilly. We don’t understand each other. They’re two of the most opinionated people on the planet, and yet they somehow manage to be both baffled and outraged that they got an opinionated daughter who refuses to subscribe to