Page 35 of Keeping Kaitlyn

Matter of fact, I consider it a miracle that he hasn’t figured it out by now. The only thing working in our favor is that he’s never seen us together in the same room. But that’s about to change.

“Well, Plan B—we can always tell them the truth.”That we’ve known each other for years now. That we were married for five of the best fucking weeks of my life. That I was so stupid crazy in love with you that when you left, I never saw it coming. That coming back to find you gone fucked me up in ways Istilldon’t understand. That I still don’t know why. That I still don’t know what I did to make you leave. What I should’ve done different to make you stay.

Like I said it all out loud, Kait looks up at me with those wide, blue eyes of hers and shakes her head no. She doesn’t want to tell them the truth any more than I do.

“I didn’t think so.” I give her a wry, crooked smile before I finally manage to force my hands into compliance and away from her hips. “Then, plan A it is.”

NINETEEN

KAITLYN

If someone had toldme this morning that I’d be sitting in my ex-husband’s tattoo shop, negotiating the terms of our fake friendship while he tattooed me, I’d have called them a liar. Then I would’ve packed up my car, grabbed my dog, and run for my life.

Don’t be a coward, Kait. You had your opportunity to leave, and you didn’t take it, remember? Matter of fact, when Went asked you to leave Boston, you pretty much told him to fuck off.

Yeah.

I remember.

And even though staying when I should’ve left has been hard, I don’t regret it. I have people here. People I care about. People who care aboutme. Maybe that’s an easy thing for some to walk away from but not someone like me.

People?

You don’t have people—you have Ryan, and let’s be honest here, Kait—he’s not yourpeople.He’s your patient. You can barely stand each other half the time. That’s not really a connection worth fighting for, is it?

Maybe not, but it’s all I have.

Yeah? Whose fault is that?

“What’s a Mook?”

Once we came to an uneasy agreement to spend the next week or so being friendly toward each other, just long enough to get us through Conner and Henley’s wedding before we tell everyone we decided we hated each other, neither Went or I have said a word. I’ve been laying here for the last hour with my eyes closed because I’m too much of a chickenshit to look at him while he finishes up my tattoo, the hard buzz of his tattoo gun, the only sound between us. Until now.

“A dog,” I tell him, my eyes still closed. “My dog. He’s a?—”

“You have a dog?” I’d have to be deaf to miss the envy in his tone—a reminder that he’d told me once that he’d always wanted a dog.

“Yeah.”

“How long have you had him?” Went lifts the needle for a moment to wipe away some excess ink and I take the opportunity to turn my head away from him so I can open my eyes.

“A while.” It’s an evasive answer but the truth would likely send him into a tailspin. One that would have him hurt and angry enough to forget about our temporary truce and throw me out of his shop.

Like he recognizes my answer for what it is, Went makes a rough sound in the back of his throat before letting the subject drop. Lifting the needle off my skin a final time, he turns the gun off, the following silence making my ears ring. Rolling his stool back, he stands. “Let me get you cleaned up and then I’ll take you home.”

In my peripheral, I watch while he skirts the bottom of the table before he steps into my field of vision. Long, powerful legscarry him to the sink and I watch while he snaps off his gloves and tosses them in the trash.

“I can order another Uber.” I say it to his back, tone lifted to carry over the sound of running water while he washes his hands. Before I can finish pleading my case, Went bumps the tap off with his elbow. Snatching a bunch of paper towels from the stack, he turns around, pinning me to the table with a sharp, black glare.

“Actually, you can’t,” he says pulling my cell phone from his back pocket. Showing it to me with a bland smile, he tucks it away again. “And I already said I’d take you home.”

“I know.” Sitting up, I nod while panic starts to swirl again. “But you’re probably tired and I don’t want?—”

“Is there someone waiting for you beside your dog?” His tone is casual when he asks, the easy-going cadence of it at total odds with the dark, murderous look he’s giving me.

“No.” I shake my head while I fight the urge to squirm against the bolt of heat that shoots through me. Jealous, possessive Went really shouldn’t turn me on but he does.

Always has.

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