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“Fine. I’ll tell you, but don’t freak out.” I drew my bottom lip between my teeth. “It’s Christian Harper.”
Some photos were worth a thousand words. This photo said only one. Mine.
“Maybe Stella will be the one who’ll crack your I don’t believe in love shell. It’s always the unexpected ones.”
“I forgot earlier because I was busy. You said only to come in on weekdays, and I didn’t want to leave them all weekend. They’re very sensitive to—” “Busy doing what?” I no longer cared about the plants. “Personal things.”
“Understood.” She reached into her pocket and retrieved a brass key, which she forced into my hand. “In fact, you won’t find me in your apartment again, period.”
The memory of the fleeting hurt in Stella’s eyes resurfaced like an annoying gnat that wouldn’t go away. “Dammit to hell.” With an annoyed growl, I abandoned my better instincts, slammed the bedroom door behind me, and made my way downstairs.
