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Then I say, "What were you doing with him?"
Her mouth falls open. "Excuse me?"
"With Gabriel."
"Talking."
"You were laughing."
She blinks once, slow and disbelieving. "You are jealous."
The word lands between us like a slap.
I say nothing.
Her expression shifts when I don't deny it. Her chin lifts.
"Wow," she says quietly. "That's rich."
I cross my arms. "Is it?"
"Yes, it is." She kicks harder to stay afloat. "You don't get to disappear behind those office doors for three days and then show up jealous because I had coffee with someone who actually asked me questions."
I step closer. "He touched you."
"It was my arm, Everett, not a marriage proposal."
Her kick slips.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that her mouth dips into the water and she takes on a gulp of water she hadn’t planned.
I cross the last bit of distance and get an arm around her back before she can keep pretending she's fully steady. She gasps as I pull her against me and start walking her to the shallow end and towards the edge of the pool. Her arms slide around my neck and her legs wrap around my waist on instinct, and suddenly this conversation becomes something far more dangerous than either of us intended.
"What are you doing?" she asks as if I didn’t just watch her take on water.
"I can't watch you drown, Aria. I’m taking you to where you can at least stand up while you yell at me."
"I was not drowning."
"You were getting there."
"And I wasn’t yelling… you were ignoring me."
She glares at me from inches away, wet hair slicked against her shoulders, chest rising and falling hard enough that her breasts brush my ribs every time she breathes.
"Why did you come find me?"
There’s no answer that makes this thing between us easier.
Because I wanted to see you. Because Jeremy called with the trust breathing down my neck and all I wanted after that was you. Because I've spent three days pretending that distance is discipline and I'm tired of the lie.
Instead I say, "You left."
"That isn't an answer."
"No," I admit. "It isn't."
