Page 101 of Accidental Groom

“Yeah, well, I didn’t either,” I say tightly.

He holds out a hand. I shake it only because I don’t want to look like the one who’s losing control, even though I feel like I’m ten seconds from doing exactly that. His grip is firm, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes when they meet mine.

Does he thinkI’mthe threat?

“Let me get Elena,” he says carefully. “She doesn’t, uh, know you’re here, I’m assuming.”

“I didn’t tell her, no.”

He nods slowly, taking a step back. “She’s just in the guest room. Give me a sec.”

The apartment is clean from what I can see as he rounds the corner. It’s open plan, minimalist. I scan the space for signs of her — her sweater over the back of a chair, a pair of flats by the door, a book with one of her bookmarks hanging out on the entryway table. She’s here. She’sbeenhere. Living.

I hear her before I see her.

“Why is the door open?” she asks, her voice rounding the corner. But then Ross enters my line of sight again, followed by her behind him, and she stops dead in her tracks. “Harry?”

She’s barefoot in leggings and one of my shirts, her hair tied up in a frizzy, unkempt knot like she doesn’t care about showing this relaxed version of herself to him. Her eyes widen, her mouth parting like she’s not sure whether to be surprised, angry, or relieved.

I force the words out of my mouth.

“Hi, darling.”

She blinks rapidly. “What are you?—”

“I had to see for myself,” I say.

The silence rings too loudly in my ears.

“I’ll, uh, give you guys a minute,” Ross says. He steps back behind her, squeezing her shoulder once, and I have to physically stop myself from lunging. But he’s gone before I can do anything.

She doesn’t thank him. She doesn’t even look at him. Her eyes stay on me, like if she looks away, I might vanish.

Hesitantly, she reaches out for her sweater on the back of the chair and pulls it over her head, then slips her bare feet into a pair of slides by the door that are far too large for her and definitelyhis. “Let’s… uh, privacy.”

She moves past me, leading me to the end of the hallway. There’s a narrow set of stairs that leads to an emergency exit, but when she pushes the bar across it, no alarm goes off. I follow out past her as she holds for me before she kicks a brick into place to hold the door open.

“It locks if you don’t,” she offers by way of explanation.

The rooftop is barely a patio. It’s modest, with string lights hanging and a small bistro table, a grill in the corner. The city skyline rises beneath the sunset in the distance behind her, and the wind whips, cold and biting, but I don’t fully feel it.

She takes her hair down and smooths it out around her neck. I almost ask if she’s cold. But I don’t. Instead, we’re both quiet, neither of us saying a damn thing.

Until she breaks it.

“I didn’t think you’d come here.”

“Clearly,” I snap.

She winces. “Harry?—”

“What the fuck is going on?” My voice cuts through the air sharper than I mean to. “You disappear for three days, ignore every call, every message. Then I found out you’re not just visiting Philadelphia for fun, you’re here to seehim. You weremarriedto him.”

She pales instantly.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask, stepping forward. “Or was I just supposed to find out pieces of your life like I’m doing a scavenger hunt?”

Her lower lip wobbles. “I was going to?—”