Infatuation

Fourteen months without pictures. Without color. He wanted to know what kept her too busy to pay attention to her home. Then he changed his mind. He wasn’t here to learn more about her. He was here to deal with what he already knew.

“Not a bad place,” he said. “A little icy. A little plain.”

“Some would say understated. Minimalist even.” Her defensive posture tightened further.

“I’d say boring.”

“What happened to icy and plain?” she asked, one brow lifting.

He shook his head. “Changed my mind.”

“Spoke your mind, you mean,” she said, and crossed her legs.

“Always have.”

“I remember it well.”

“Do you think that’s why we fought so often?” He ran an index finger along the edge of the table’s tiles, watching her eyes as they flashed. “Because I tend to say what’s on my mind?”

She took several seconds to gather her thoughts, smoothing the hem of her dress as she answered. “I think we fought because we were up against more than either of us was able to deal with.”

He snorted. “You mean, you cheating on your boyfriend with his roommate and me going behind Derek’s back to do his girl?”

“Yes.” Her gaze snapped to his. “That’s what I mean. And when you put it like that—”

“How else should I put it, Milla?” he interrupted to ask. “Isn’t that exactly what happened?”

She glanced down at her hem again, glanced back. “Like I said, I don’t think either of us knew how to deal with it then. I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll ever be able to. Or if we’ll be stuck with each other forever.”