Page 34 of Words We Didn't Say

Keys jingled in my handbag as the shopping cart bumped along. I smiled. The paperwork for my new place at The Rocks was rolled up in there, too. The apartment was too modern, too much like Zach’s, but securing a lease was another step in the right direction.The familiar soap and cologne of the man who’d forgotten me wouldn’t be lingering on brand-new pillows or unboxed sheets. I had my own big bed again. I had a fridge to fill. Tonight, Andie’s. Tomorrow, my own.

The cart’s wonky wheel clackety-clacked as I headed down the next aisle. The wheel jammed.

“Stupid fu—”

I shoved the cart, but it stalled in protest. Aisle five was officially the end of the line.

“Great.” Another push, but the cart didn’t budge. “Justgreat.”

“Eden?”

My gaze snapped up.

I knew that voice. I expected the dark eyes behind black-rimmed glasses to stare back at me, but I still wasn’t prepared. Butterflies battered my stomach. Zach was perfectly polished in his suit, his hair combed back, and his tie knottedjustso. His sweet, uncertain smile was the same, too. The only difference was the betrayal stinging in my chest.

I wasn’t ready to see him. Not yet. It was too soon.

I took a step back.

Zach lowered his grocery basket to the floor. “Eden.” He raised his palms, creeping forward like he was trying not to spook me.

Too late.

I spun around. Four-inch stilettos wouldn’t stop me. I forgot the shopping cart, abandoning it in the middle of the aisle. My eyes frantically searched for an exit to avoid confronting the boot stomping on the little bug of my dreams again.

“Eden! Wait!” Zach’s footsteps followed. “You forgot your bag!”

Hesitating, I glanced over my shoulder. Zach had scooped my handbag out of the shopping cart. The strap swung from his outstretched hand, but he stood there, frozen, waiting for me to make the next move.

I stalked down the aisle and snatched my bag. “Aren’t you supposed to be chained to your desk?” I snapped.

No ‘hello.’ No ‘how are you?’ Right into battle. And Zach didn’t know what hit him.

“I, um…” he stammered to an awkward stop. I used to think that was adorable. Not tonight.

My eyes narrowed on the basket he’d dropped by his feet. A tub of chocolate ice cream, fancy tea bags, crackers, and a pot of smoked salmon dip I could’ve eaten by the truckload—and had done exactly that the day before my period had started. Zach didn’t eat a thing in the basket. Begrudgingly, he might drink acup of tea. Were these treats for his secret office viper? Was he planning to spoil her after she’d dug her fangs into him again?

Zach noticed my eyes on his groceries and rubbed the back of his neck. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said. “I was going to drop a basket by your salon tomorrow morning.”

“Wha—what?”

“You always said gifts are better in a basket. I wanted to have a go at making one with a few of your favourite snacks to, um, you know…” He shrugged. “Make your day better.”

Hope tickled my aching ribs. Zach was finally acknowledging me.Trying. But was this how desperate I’d become? Settling forsnacks?Screw that. Screw him.

Defiant, I lifted my chin. “That’s the best you can do?”

He winced. “I deserve that.”

“Youdeservea good kick in the balls.”

“The roses?” His Adam’s apple bobbed on a nervous swallow. “I remembered you have allergies. It hit me around four o’clock this morning.” To the flecked-concrete floor, he muttered, “Sorry.”

Thefloorgot his apology? Theaudacityof this man! “The flowers are a symptom of a bigger issue, don’t you think?”

“Michaela?”

“Getting warmer.” I huffed a laugh. “I bet she was ecstatic when you told her I’d moved out.” Little homewrecker.

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