Page 3 of The Confidentiality Clause
“Since you’ve yet to thank me for bringing you food, I think I’ll hold off on the pleasantries.” She lays the snark on thick.
I slide the box with a fork on top over to her. “Did you really go out to get food just because of me?”
She opens the box, the smell of garlic and cheese reminding me that I haven’t eaten since the protein bar I had on the way to work this morning. I’m suddenly ravenous, and hurry to open my container of food.
“I was already at Bella Notte when Sutton called, so it worked out.”
“You dress up like this for takeout?” I ask, and she shoots me a glare.
“So what if I do?” I hold my hands up in surrender. She rolls her eyes. “I was on a date.”
My eyes roam over the food. Her fork stabs a touch too aggressively into her pasta.
“It obviously wasn’t a good one,” she adds.
“Must have been pretty terrible to have you leaving before the food arrived.”
Her expression shifts to something less angry and more sad. “Yeah, it was.”
“Did he do something to hurt you?” Protectiveness flares in my chest. “I can have one of my MMA clients pay him a visit.”
While we don’t always get along, Ariel is Sutton’s best friend, and we’ve known each other for years. I’ll always have her back.
She lets out a bitter laugh. “If you can find him, be my guest. He never showed up.”
I take a bite of my lasagna instead of responding. This is territory Ariel and I don’t enter. Our relationship–if you can even call it that–consists of us irritating each other. There’s no talk of her dating life, and she’s not supposed to check on me after a long day at work. We only do surface-level, and nothing deeper. The closest I get to seeing any piece of her heart is when she’s with Sutton. When she teared up during her speech atSutton and Shaw’s wedding reception, I was shocked to see her express an emotion other than annoyance.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. It’s uncomfortable, but I don’t know what to say or do to make it better. The mostalone timewe’ve had is when we were in high school and Sutton would run to the kitchen to get a snack while we were watching a movie. I feel like I’m in the middle of a jungle with no map and a broken compass.
She moves her feet off the desk, knocking over my picture frame in the process and sending the bottle of blood pressure medicine that was in front of it rolling off the desk.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” she says while bending over to grab the bottle. She pauses, pills in hand. My heart rate skyrockets to a level that would concern the doctor who prescribes them.
“Why do you have blood pressure medication?” she asks. Her blue eyes meet mine. I’d hoped she wouldn’t recognize the name of the pills.
“How do you know that’s what they are?”
She sets the bottle down on my desk–hard. “Because my dad has high blood pressure. Does Sutton know about this?”
I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “No, she doesn’t, because she doesn’t need to know every single aspect of my life."
Ariel rolls her eyes. “That’s rich coming from the guy who teamed up with his best friend to infiltrate her dating life throughout our school years.”
“That’s different.”
“And if you found out Sutton was hiding high blood pressure from you?”
I clench my jaw. “This is none of your business, Duke.”
“It’s too late for that now. I’m calling Sutton.” She stands and starts to pack up her food. I reach out and snag her wrist withoutthinking. Her pulse hammers beneath my fingertips. She glares at me.
“You can’t tell Sutton.”
“I can, and I will.” She tries to break free, but I keep hold of her wrist.
“Please, Ariel,” I resort to begging. “She’ll do something dramatic like move back here if she thinks anything is wrong with me.”
Ariel eyes my hand. I slowly let her go, hoping she won’t bolt or reach for her phone.
