Page 24 of A Forever Love
“You’re the one behaving like a child, but I’m crazy? It’s like I don’t even fucking know you anymore.” My left eye twitches as I press my lips together.
“Likewise.” She crosses her arms, her gaze locked straight ahead.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I don’t expect a reply, given her mood, but she surprises me.
“Since when have you become so snappy and short-tempered?”
“Right back at you, mittens.”
“Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You used to always complain about not getting enough of my time, and now you can’t get away from me fast enough. Did you undergo a personality makeover?” My teeth grit, and even though I promised myself I wouldn’t ask her today about why she left four years back, the question escapes me. “Is someone blackmailing you?”
Her eyes widen to a concerning degree. “Wh-what?” She takes a moment to gather herself before bursting into laughter. “I don’t even know what to say. You think someone’s blackmailing me? For what? What could anyone possibly gain from me?”
A weird scratchiness in my throat makes it difficult to swallow as I catch a glimpse of the girl I met several years back in the waiting room.
But before I can say anything, Mere comments, “Anyway, change is the only constant in life.”
“Listening to the inspirational quotes you pull off the internet is the last thing I want to do, Mere. Besides, why change something that’s already perfect?”
My words seem to stifle her, a moment of silence passing before she replies, “I don’t do that anymore. Read motivational quotes, I mean.”
She’s already turned away, and I know, even if I ask, she isn’t going to tell me the reason why everything between us has changed. Ten minutes farther into the drive, I see a café and pull over.
“Is your addiction to cinnamon lattes still the same, or has that changed as well?” When I arch an eyebrow, she greets me with a small smile.
“Didn’t you say perfect things don’t need to change?”
Thank fuck. Maybe I can still salvage whatever broke between us.
After grabbing a cinnamon latte and a black coffee, I return to the car to find the kitten on Merida’s lap in the passenger seat.
“She better not distract me while I’m driving.”
“She is going to do no such thing. She’s just curious.”
“I always warned you about your future as a cat lady, mittens.” I place our cups in the center cup holders.
Merida doesn’t even lift her head from where she’s petting the kitten with a brush. “And what gave you the impression I was sitting in my dorm room, waiting for strange cats to show up rather than spending the night out with friends and partying?”
“Partying?” I snort. “Merida Catherine Adams, did you just say that?”
“Carter Anthony King, it appears that the effects of your old age are finally taking hold. Maybe you need a hearing aid.”
“Did you just make a joke about my age?” Caught completely off guard, I take a moment before starting the ignition and slipping on my aviators. “So freaking immature, mittens.”
But instead of responding with another sassy comeback, she returns her attention to petting the kitten. It’s apparent that whatever ice we broke has re-emerged, and she’s gone back to giving me the cold shoulder.
But I’m not stopping before getting to the bottom of this.
* * *
“Why is this so heavy?” I let out a grunt as I set the third suitcase down on the sidewalk. Keith loaded all of Merida’s stuff into my car this morning, and I had no idea there was so freaking much. “Have you started a stone collection that I’m unaware of?”
I dust off my jacket before pulling the two bags closer to the main entrance of the building. Three years ago, Kings Security acquired two penthouse apartments in Cherrywood, and we installed a cutting-edge security system throughout the building.
“No, it’s just books,” Merida casually replies, balancing the kitten’s crate in one hand while dragging a neon green suitcase ahead of me.