Page 31

Fourteen
Henley
I can feel people staring at us. Trying figure out what someone like Conner would be doing with someone like me. Someone prim and proper. Someone who wears Chanel suits and her hair in a bun. Pearls around her throat and diamonds stuck in her ears.
Someone who doesn’t belong with him.
Maybe that’s why I said it. Why I’m forcing myself to stay put, even though I want nothing more than to run out of here like the place in on fire. Because I told Patrick the truth last night. Because I know everyone who is staring at us, trying to figure us out, is right.
Conner and I don’t belong together.
We don’t fit. Never did.
But I want us to.
“We should probably stop talking about your panties, Daisy.” He lifts his mug from the table and takes a drink. “Unless of course you’re interested in having me drag you out of this booth and jerk that skirt of yours up again, in front of god and this whole fucking restaurant, so I can bend you over the table before we’ve even had a chance to order.”
There’s an older couple sitting behind him. The woman is facing me and it’s clear she heard what Conner just said because she suddenly looks like she’s having hot flashes while the man she’s with chuckles.
You wouldn’t dare.
That’s what I’m about to say but something tells me I wouldn’t get two syllables out before he made good on his promise. The absolutely insane part is that I want him to.
So instead, I clear my throat, shifting my gaze a little to the left because as usual, I can’t look at him and breathe at the same time. “People are staring at us.”
He looks at me over the rim of his mug before shifting his gaze to let it roam around the restaurant. “It’s not you they’re looking at.” He takes another drink before setting it down. “It’s me. I’m usually in here at least once a day and most of the people in here are regulars. The only woman they’re used to seeing me with is Tess.”
“So where do you take the women you date?” It’s a stupid question. One that’s really none of my business. One he doesn’t seem to want to answer.
“I’ve never been on a date.” He shrugs, leaning back in his seat to stretch his legs out in front of himself under the table. “I don’t count taking Jessica Renfro to the movies in my mom’s minivan.”
I think about the way she used to spin off into orbit whenever Conner was around. How convinced she was that he liked her. How nasty she became she realized he didn’t. “I’m sure she’d disagree with you.”
He arches an eyebrow at me. “I care even less about what Jessica thinks now than I did eight years ago.”
“Tess told me that she and Declan are getting married.” I lift my own mug because I’m nervous and I need to do something with my hands besides stare at them in my lap. “How did that happen?”
“I told her to fuck off and she moved on to my brother.” Conner’s mouth works like he’s got a bad taste he can’t shake. “And like an idiot, he let her sink her claw in.”
“They’ve been together this whole time?”
“No—just a few years.” He shrugs, giving me a narrow-eyed look. “What else did Tess tell you?”
“Enough to make me want to punch Jessica in the face, all over again,” I say, and he smiles. A real smile, not the smartass grin he uses to hide behind, but the kind he used to give me when we were younger. The kind that said we understood each other perfectly. Belonged together, no matter what anyone else thought.
Seeing it now nearly cleaves me in two.
Like he’s reading my mind, the smile on his face winks out and he clears his throat. “Anyway, she’s cheating on him.” He lifts a shoulder in one of his haphazard shrugs. “Dickface is either too stupid to see it or he doesn’t care.”
Conner knows Jessica is cheating on his brother. “I saw her,” I tell him, even though Tess warned me not to. “She was with Ephraim Viaga. He lives in my building.”
He doesn’t look surprised. It makes me wonder how he would know that about her. What he plans on doing with the information.
“Alright you two,” Tina says, appearing over us. “What can I get you? Con, you want pancakes, right?”
“Nah.” He gives me a sly grin while handing her his menu. “I think I might be ruined for pancakes.”
A bright red blush erupts over my face. Not because I made him pancakes but because of what happened after.