Page 83 of The House Guest

“Can you tell I’m extra fucking sensitive today?”

“You have every right to be.”

I leaned against the counter. “I’d longed for this day and also dreaded it.”

“Why dread?” he asked.

“I worried that I’d look in her eyes and be able to tell she’d fallen out of love with me.”

“Whatdidyou see when you looked into her eyes?”

“Nothing but fear.”

“Hmm…” He scratched his chin. “I would take fear over apathy.” He began putting away his groceries. “I think she’s afraid of her own reaction to you, perhaps.”

“I’m not sure, but I won’t be able to explore it any more until Monday.”

Benjamin started singing that old song, “Monday Monday,” as he finished putting everything away.

Monday couldn’t come soon enough.

***

The following day, I decided I needed to make myself useful to get my mind off things. So I joined Benjamin on his grocery store run.

As we strolled the aisles, I made an announcement. “You made dinner last night. It’s my turn tonight.”

Benjamin stopped the shopping cart. “We could go out, you know.”

“Are you trying to hint that you’re afraid of my cooking?”

“You don’t have the best track record, Dorian. I think we’re going on three times now that we’ve almost had to call the fire department when you cooked. There was that time you tried to cook for Primrose at the mansion, then breakfast at the apartment in Turkey, and dinner at the rental house in Santorini.”

“Three seems pretty low in the overall big picture of life.”

We continued our way through the aisles for a while. Then I stopped short when I noticed a flash of familiar, long brown hair with golden streaks.

Primrose had been looking at the ingredients on the back of a box. My chest constricted at the sight of her angelic little daughter sitting in the cart. I’d never seen herface before. With her big, wonder-filled eyes, she looked just like her mom.

I’d wanted to turn around and head in the other direction, but Primrose noticed us before I could. She let out an audible gasp.

I couldn’t avoid her now.

My throat felt ready to close. “Hey.”

“Hi.” She looked over her shoulder.

“Uh, we were just—”

Before I could get another word in, a man appeared by her side.

“Did you say we needed almond milk?” he asked her, glancing in my direction.

This was my first up-close look at Primrose’s man. Casey. He was tall with sandy-colored hair and definitely gave me a run for my money in the looks department. I wished he were a lot less handsome. Then again, why would I have expected someone as gorgeous as Primrose to be with an unattractive guy?

“Uh…no. We don’t need it,” she stammered. “We have a full half-gallon at home that I picked up recently.”

When he turned to look at me again, I made a split-second decision.