The Reinvention of the Rose - Christina C. Jones Page 0,29

we don’t want to miss this timing,” he said, already starting to move again, and pulling me along with him.

“Okay lovebirds,” she trilled. “I’ve gotta get to the salon anyway. I’ll see you later.”

That inflection she put on you had me ready to show Tristan that his arm around me wasn’t holding a single thing back – I didn’t want to show my ass about something so small.

“Former girlfriend,” Tristan said, apparently understanding the importance of being proactive. “Far former. Like years ago, former.”

“Seems like she still wants you.”

“Because she saw you – Nya enjoys drama, which is why she’s a former girlfriend. Let’s talk about something important.”

I laughed. “Okay… such as?”

“Such as you not knowing when your birthday is,” he answered. “Is it because of the adoption? Records lost or something?”

“Yeah.”

Sure.

We could call it that.

“You know, you should talk to Troy – he has experience with that, and doing the ancestry tests and stuff. He actually found out he had a whole twin brother,” Tristan said. “It might be good to chop it up with somebody who’s been through it. Maybe?”

I nodded. “Maybe. I… am probably not gonna do that, though.”

“Yeah I knew it was a long shot when I said it,” he laughed. “I wanted to at least try.”

“I appreciate that. Um… about this sunrise thing…”

I’d actually never been this far down the main street, and had no idea it ended in a park – especially not one as big as what we’d walked up on. It was beautifully spread out, with a decent-sized lake and dock, with people already out with their fishing rods and other gear.

Even a few small boats.

“I hope that’s not too corny for you, is it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. Not at all.”

We found a small bench and sat down together – closer than necessary. Despite Nya and her interruption, we’d made it right on time.

And it was… beautiful.

“I come out here when I can’t get back to sleep. It feels peaceful, you know?”

“Yeah, it is,” I agreed. “That’s what happened to you this morning? You couldn’t sleep?”

He nodded. “I was on my way here, stopped at UG, looked across the street… thought it would be nice to have some company.”

“So you thought since you couldn’t sleep, I shouldn’t either?”

Tristan pulled his gaze away from the view to grin at me. “Yes. Exactly. Thank you for understanding.”

“Asshole,” I laughed, nudging his shoulder with mine until he gave in and laughed too. After a moment, he put his arm around my shoulders again, pulling me into him, and… I couldn’t help it.

I dropped my head against him, and let myself be comfortable with being so damned comfortable.

“Thank you for walking with me,” he said, planting a kiss on top of my head that made me smile.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for inviting me.”

I still might kill this bitch.

Just for simply daring to exist in the same space as me.

This time, Nya wasn’t doing anything particularly wrong – she hadn’t said anything to me at all, in fact, offering nothing more than a slight sneer of acknowledgement. But the fact that, on a day I’d decided to venture to the coffeehouse for my regular people watching, she’d decided to make herself one of the people… it grated at me.

I’d chosen big, dark shades from my stash today, since we were having bright, sunny weather. Not that my eyes needed the sun protection, no. The shades were for camouflage – the weather made them not stand out as much.

Which was good.

Because the daggers I was staring into Nya and her equally shitty friend were vicious enough to earn me a restraining order, probably. Did I actually know anything about the woman she was sitting on a couch, cackling with? Of course not. But a wise person had taught me early on, bitches like that ran in packs.

I kept my expression stony, my gaze locked as they both, one by one, looked in my direction. Nya said something, and they both laughed as they openly stared.

Classic bullying tactic that I had to compel myself not to react to.

If I reacted, it would be with a level of force that landed me in jail.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody grip a mug that tight.”

A feminine voice drew my attention upward, to where a familiar face was standing near my chair.

“Jules, in case you don’t remember,” she said, her pretty face spreading into a smile as she took it upon herself to sink into the overstuffed chair beside