Page 11 of This Could Be Us
“Uh, kind of.” He cracks a small smile. “I ate as much as I could bear.”
“Told you.” I pluck restlessly at the ruffle along my hemline. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”
“You mean calling me a geek?” He flicks a glance up at me, hisexpression slightly amused instead of annoyed. “But I am. I’ve always been. I crunch numbers for a living. I’m used to it.”
I shift in my seat uncomfortably, recalling all the other unflattering descriptions Edward has applied to “Cross in accounting” over the last year. “Well, I still feel bad.”
“Why? It’s your husband who doesn’t like me. It’s fine. I don’t like him either.”
We stare at each other in the awkward silence following his assertion. Awkward for me at least. He seems completely comfortable insulting my husband to my face. I’m still formulating an appropriate response and realizing there isn’t one when Judah startles me with a touch.
It’s a soft brush of long, strong fingers across my wrist. A dark bruise is already forming a small shackle where Edward gripped me too tightly. I draw a sharp breath and snatch my arm away like his light touch was fire.
“Sorry,” he says, frowning. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it’s… it’s nothing, really. I bruise easily. Always have.”
“Always?” he asks, the frown deepening.
“Not always like healwaysbruises me,” I say with a nervous laugh. “He never… He doesn’t do that. He just wasn’t thinking.”
“That tracks,” Judah replies with a sardonic twist to his mouth.
I bite my lip and look away, unable to hold that steady stare.
“Here you are,” Edward says from the door. His tone is amicable, but I know him too well not to detect the irritation in the glance he flicks from me to Judah. “It’s time to go, Sol.”
“Oh.” I stand and smooth my dress down, pausing as I recall Edward’s claim that Judah was ogling me, staring at my ass. He’s not staring at my ass now, though. He’s staring at my wrist, his cold eyes shifting from the bruise to Edward. His lips settle into a firm line, and he walks over, picking up two of the Rubik’s Cubes. He tugs Aaron’s sleeve and mouths, “Let’s go.” Aaron removes his headphones, places them in a case he retrieves from the floor by his feet, stuffs the cubes in a backpack, and stands.
Father and son face each other, and I realize why Aaron looked so familiar. Their profiles are carved from the same mountain, the lines of their cheeks and jaws edged in granite. Aaron is a handsome boy and must look a lot like Judah did at his age.
“Aaron, are you going to tell Mrs. Barnes goodbye?” Judah asks, nodding toward me.
Aaron looks up at me, a frown pinching his dark brows. “Soledad,” he says, surprising me.
“That’s right.” A smile breaks out on my face like I’ve won something. Maybe I have. Connecting with Aaron for those few minutes when maybe people usually don’t get that privilege feels like a prize. “You can call me Soledad. It was so nice meeting you, Aaron.”
He doesn’t respond but walks toward the door.
Judah’s mouth tips into a half smile. “Guess that’s my cue. It was nice meeting you, Soledad.”
His gaze ices over when he looks at Edward. “See you Monday, Barnes.”
And with that, he follows his son from the room.
“See what I mean?” Edward demands as soon as we’re alone. “I told you he’s an asshole.”
I recall a warm smile that felt like the sun on a January morning. Sincere amusement creasing the corners of dark, watchful eyes. Gentle fingers touching the shadow of my husband’s careless strength.
“Yeah,” I agree, grabbing my stilettos from the floor. “I see exactly what you mean.”
CHAPTER TWO
SOLEDAD
Coach wants me at the gym at five tomorrow morning,” Lottie says, piercing a cucumber in her salad and bringing it to her lips. “Can you take me, Mom?”
“Of course.”