28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kat
The look of shock and confusion on his face was adorable. He’d opened his mouth to continue making his case before what I’d said had registered.
“What? I haven’t even told you where we’re going,” he said suspiciously. I shrugged.
“I know,” I said simply. He looked even more suspicious now. Oh, how the tables had turned. I giggled. He smiled softly.
“You’re soaked and freezing,” he insisted. I laughed, kissing him on the cheek. Only he would try to convince me to go somewhere with him, but start arguing against himself when I gave in too easily.
“You’ll warm me up,” I said matter-of-factly.
I knew without a doubt I’d have a blanket and a hot drink and probably a hat in five minutes flat.
Even though I wouldn’t argue about just using him to warm up.
I was finding it hard to let go of him at the moment.
His panicked breathing was still sticking in my mind.
“True…” he trailed off. Making up his mind, he continued.
“There’s yet another ‘lovely’ surprise waiting for me at a rooftop bar somewhere around here.
Have I mentioned I fucking hate surprises?
Like in general, but also on my birthday,” he pouted.
He was a very controlled person—I wasn’t surprised he hated surprises.
And yet his family and friends decided to do it anyway. I frowned, realizing something.
“Does that include surprise gifts?” I asked softly. I had thought I was safe, since he wouldn’t know it was me. Then he knew it was me. And he seemed like he’d liked it. But-
“No, that doesn’t include surprise gifts. Especially not from you,” he said gently, kissing my jaw. Sir. Do you want to make it to your party or not?
He’d probably be fine with not.
I climbed out of his lap, wincing at how stiff I’d gotten. I tried to offer him a hand up and realized I didn’t have one a second too late. He gently tapped my plexi-casted hand out of the way, giving me a dirty look. Like he was offended I’d try with the state of my hand.
Fair. He’d had to sit through its deconstruction and reconstruction just the other day. And speaking of, I was happy to find that my sling—and Henry’s shelter—had kept my actual cast from getting wet. Or at least wet enough to need to be replaced. Thank fuck.
As he stood, I tried to hand him his jacket. I was okay, now, and we were getting in the car anyway.
That earned me another dirty look. Brat.
But then he actually took it from me. Excellent. I win.
I didn’t win. He wrapped it around me, gently plucking my right hand out of the arm hole, then zipping it up over my sling.
“Can’t have your cast getting wet, Kat,” he said primly. Yeah… he won. The second we exited the alley, an anxious looking Andrew popped out of nowhere. I jumped a mile.
“Fucking hell, Andrew, make a NOISE,” I snapped, without any heat behind it. I was pissed. I was hurt. I was… rather sure he was right about a lot of things.
Not about calling me a cunt.
But other things.
But I could also set it aside for the night. And the look of remorse on his face was a rather nice fixture for the night, I thought.
We climbed into the SUV that magically showed up. I took a deep breath as I climbed into the backseat with Henry. I’d be okay. It would be okay. I was distracted from the combination of Henry and backseat leather immediately anyway.
“I’m sorry, Kat. That’s all I’m allowed to say, tonight. But I am. And not just about the voicemails. Earlier, I didn’t mean-“ he started, sounding more like the Andrew I knew than I’d heard in months. I sighed, heavily, cutting him off.
“I know, Andrew. I know about earlier, and we’ll talk about the rest another time. I just need to get dry and get a goddamn drink,” I said, feeling every inch of the exhaustion that had been plaguing me lately. I needed a redbull or something, too, it seemed.
Because the way Henry hadn’t stopped touching me since we stood, and the panicked look on his face when I’d tried, told me I wouldn’t be Irish goodbye-ing anyone tonight. I was in it, now. But I just snuggled into his warmth, under his arm where he’d placed me.
There were worse places to be.