Page 27 of This Wild Heart

“That is not my name,” I said firmly.

Except it wasn’t firm. It came out all breathy and shit because this entire day had turned my stomach into freaking knots. I needed to sleep for three days straight. And take a hot shower. And eat a pound of chocolate.

The GPS told me to turn, so I followed it. A few more turns off the highway took us into the Portland Southwest Hills neighborhood. The big, beautiful houses had lush landscaping and gorgeous views of the city.

My stomach was weightless under my ribs as I watched the map bring us closer and closer to his home. I was going to sleep under the same roof as this man, at least for a while, and I could only hope that whatever strange, sad mood lingered on the car ride back to his place would dissipate once we got settled.

“No, I’m not worried about what you said,” he promised. “About ruining my first shot at a wedding.”

I blinked, having momentarily forgotten what we’d been talking about. “You’re sure?”

“Do you?” he asked. “Regret it now.”

Oh boy, wasn’t that a fucking trick question. “Not yet,” I told him. “You haven’t had enough time to really piss me off, so the jury is out.”

He chuckled under his breath, and I hated what the sound of that laugh did to me.

“After what happened, I don’t want emotional complications,” I said carefully. “My heart is a little tender, as you can imagine.” Admitting that out loud felt like a concession after the heat of a battle, like I was giving up ground that might come in handy later. I didn’t look at Parker because I didn’t want to know what was on his face. “So if this can stay simple. Straightforward. Easy. Then I won’t have any regrets,” I added with a glance.

His expression was locked the hell down, and I was thankful for that. Mine probably was too. After our hectic morning, this felt like our first time approaching the negotiation table.

I had a feeling, given the chance, Parker and I could trade a lot of war stories about the choices that led us here.

“The perfect business arrangement.” Parker leaned his head back, closing his eyes briefly. “That sounds good to me.”

Relief bled through my chest, and I let out a quick sigh. “Good.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“What about me?”

“You wanted to know something good. Something important. Is it killing you that you missed your first wedding?”

In a deleted folder on my computer, I had so many documents and spreadsheets dedicated to my nonexistent nuptials. Even without a date, there were plans. Things I’d envisioned. And in my fit of rage when I sent all that shit to the trash can, I refused to allow even a moment of grief over losing them.

Instead of telling him that, I swept all of those thoughts—spreadsheets and Pinterest boards and plans—into a safe little box at the back of my head, neatly clipping all my feelings about the wasted years I’d spent with him and banishing them to a dark, cobweb-covered place that would never be touched. It didn’t help me to dwell on any of that.

But I could give Parker something, couldn’t I?

If I searched my own mind, the parts cleansed of the douchebag, I had vague memories of things I’d wanted for myself.

“It’s not what I imagined, no,” I answered carefully. “A hangover and sleeping in a stranger’s jersey is a bit less romance than I’d hoped for, I suppose.”

“Let me guess, a big, romantic wedding like Emmett and Adaline’s?”

“No,” I said easily. “I don’t need a big wedding, actually. I never have.”

I could’ve had that. He’d wanted one. It was one of the things we disagreed on.

“So you wanted…”

Why was it so hard to answer these questions? I shifted in my seat, hands tightening briefly on the steering wheel as words crowded in my throat. Had Max ever asked me questions like this?

I felt naked, far more naked than in that bed with nothing on underneath his jersey. The question had me so distracted I missed a fucking Jeep wave. I sighed, closing my eyes briefly, but when I did, it was Parker’s face I saw. One of the few clear memories I had was the sad shots. When he appeared at the table like a tall-ass mirage made up of muscles and sex appeal, an unexpected balm to the cracked glass part of me that wanted to stay safe and hidden.

So I took a deep breath and forced the words out. “The romance, I suppose.”

Parker was quiet for a moment, something tight and uncomfortable relaxing inside me when he didn’t dismiss my answer.

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