Page 100 of His Secret
“You definitely will,” I say with a grin.
He comes in for a hug, but when he goes to pull away, he stops and studies my face. Then he leans in and kisses me.
I cup the side of his face with my hand, deepening the kiss. You’d think we hadn’t spent days doing this, because we kiss like it’s the firsttime. Or last.
When we disentangle ourselves, he takes a breath and grabs the handle of the suitcase.
“See you.”
I lift a hand and watch him walk out of the garage and head to his house.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ADRIAN
In my bedroom,I lift my suitcase to the bed and start unpacking. The shower is on in the connected en-suite, so I have a few minutes to prepare myself for seeing Charlotte after this weekend. The guilt will likely be written across my face.
I do feel bad, but at the same time, I finally feel like I did something for me. For my happiness.
I’m here in this house, with a ring on my finger, for her. It started because of our parents, but for a while, she’s been telling me she needs me. She’s heard it from her father for way too long. She doesn’t think she’s capable of being on her own—of being strong enough to fight through her addiction and be in recovery without me. And while I don’t mind being that pillar of strength for her, it feels like I’m being used. Resentment grows inside me.
As I’m taking out the last remaining toiletry items, the bathroom door opens, and she jolts.
“Oh, god.” She laughs. “You’re home.”
“Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She touches her hair. “No, it’s fine. I guess I lost track of time.” Charlotte walks over and wraps her arms around me.
I return the hug and kiss the top of her head. “I’m gonna finish up and go make something to eat. Are you hungry?”
“No, I ate not that long ago. I’ll just finish getting ready, and I’ll meet you down there so you can tell me all about your trip.”
“Okay.”
I remove the small toiletry bag and put it on the bed before I zip up the suitcase and store it in the closet.
Charlotte goes back into the bathroom, and I head downstairs to start looking for something to eat.
I hesitate at the window, looking through the blinds at Matías’s house across the way, wishing things could be different.
By the time I’m sitting down to eat my chicken and cheese quesadilla, Charlotte comes downstairs.
“Hey. Did you talk to your dad?”
I groan, rolling my eyes. “No. Why?”
“He told me he’d been trying to get in touch with you.”
“You talked to him?”
“Yeah, he called me.”
She sits across from me at the dining room table.
“What did you say?”
“That you were on a work trip.”