He made sure there was no place for me to sit on the counter so I’d be forced to notice it. Because the chair was meant for me. The realization is enough to propel my ass straight up and out of that chair. He looks up, jarred by the sudden movement, and for a moment we just stare at one other. I must look like a crazed animal, ready to bolt like the first night I walked in here. I can say what I’m thinking, but I don’t need to. He already knows. “It’s only a chair.” He’s talking me down off a ledge.
