“Tony—”
“Not here,” I growled.
We stepped out into the hallway, and I didn’t let go of him until we reached the exit. I pushed through the courthouse doors and pulled him toward my SUV. I yanked the passenger door open and practically shoved him inside.
“What the hell is your problem?” Simon demanded as I slammed the door shut and rounded the vehicle to the driver’s side.
I climbed in, slamming my own door hard enough to make the SUV shake. “My problem?” I said, my voice rising. “My problem is that you were flirting with that asshole in there.”
“I wasn’t flirting,” Simon said, though his tone was defensive.
“Bullshit,” I snapped. “You were laughing at his jokes, blushing like a fucking schoolgirl, and you told him you’d think about going out with him.”
“I was being polite,” Simon said.
“You were being a fucking tease,” I shot back. “And he was touching you. His hands were all over you, and you just sat there and let him.”
Simon’s eyes flashed with anger. “What was I supposed to do, Tony? Tell him to stop? Make a scene?”
“Yes!” I roared. “You were supposed to tell him to back the fuck off because you’re with someone.”
The words hung in the air between us, heavy and loaded.
Simon stared at me, his expression shifting from anger to something colder. “Am I?” he asked quietly. “Am I with someone?”
My chest tightened. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Simon said, his voice steady, “that house arrest is over. The ankle monitor is gone. There’s no legal reason for you to be seen with me anymore.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“So what?” I said, my voice rough. “You think I’m just going to walk away now?”
“Isn’t that what you always do?” Simon asked, his gaze holding mine.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Because the truth was, I didn’t know.
For weeks, I’d had an excuse. A legitimate reason to be withSimon, to be seen with him, to touch him in public. The house arrest had given me cover, a way to justify our proximity without anyone questioning it.
But now that was gone.
And I didn’t know what the fuck I was supposed to do.
Simon’s jaw tightened, and he turned to look out the window. “That’s what I thought.”
“Simon—”
“Just drive,” he said, his voice flat. “Everyone’s waiting for us at the diner.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I wasn’t going to walk away, that I...
But the words wouldn’t come.
So I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, the silence between us heavy and suffocating.
The drive to the diner felt like it took hours, even though it was only ten minutes.