My chest tightened. If Stefan only allowed something real when it truly mattered, then there was no middle ground, no safe space to exist in between. You were either something or you weren’t. And if you were, then it carried weight. Expectation.
Risk.
I swallowed, my gaze flicking to him again. The way he spoke, listened, occupied the space so effortlessly? This wasn’t a man who drifted into things. He chose or he didn’t.
With a sudden clarity that made my stomach plummet, I knew I wasn’t like Cole. I couldn’t be, not now, not after everything that had happened.
Not after the way I felt when I looked at him.
This isn’t simple anymore. Not for me.
I wasn’t something casual, and I didn’t think I ever could be.
Not with him.
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at it.
Karl.
I opened the message and read it. “Do you have any plans for this evening?” I asked him.
Stefan frowned. “Not at the moment. Why?”
“Karl is inviting us to dinner.”
His lips twitched. “Why does this feel as if I’m being taken home to meet the parents?”
“Would you mind?” I’d seen so little of Karl, and having him meet Stefan felt important. Karl was my past, and Stefan was—could be?—
Don’t. Don’t even go there.
“No, that’s fine. Tell him yes.” He picked up a book and opened it.
My thumbs slid over the screen. “Done.” Then I saw a text I’d missed.
Diana: Are you still alive, or have the men in leather eaten you? Okay, forget I wrote that, because that came out so wrong.
I smiled and reached for my laptop bag.
In my email, I made no mention of how much time I was spending in one man’s company, because she’d probably read more into it?—
The way I’m doing?
Except that wasn’t true. I was trying desperatelynotto read too much into it, because on that road lay heartache and pain. Eventually.
I made the mistake of glancing at my calendar, which only served to remind me that the deadline for the investigation report was drawing nearer. Maybe it was the eternal optimist in me, but I wasn’t worried. Not about my job, at any rate—I knew I was innocent, and that Ollie was a lying little shit. The burden of proof was on them, and no way could they find evidence for something which had never happened.
No, what occupied my thoughts was something else entirely.
That any day now, I’d get the call to return to Manchester, and that would be the end of this.
I stared at the screen for a moment longer, then without meaning to, I looked up.
Stefan was reading, one leg crossed over the other, his glasses low on his nose, completely at ease in a way that made it seem as though the world adjusted itself around him rather than the other way round.
My gaze lingered, and I forced myself to look back at my laptop.
The end of this…. But what the hellwasthis? I had no clear idea.