Page 63 of Lovers Like Us
I grimace and do my best to smother a smile. I want to be an asshat to him for once, but I’m struggling. “Thanks for stating theimpossible.”
“It’s possible.” He sets aside his coffee and stirs his oatmeal. “I sawit.”
No way. “I wasn’t thinking about fucking you, so I couldn’t have hadfuck meeyes.”
The corner of his mouth upturns. “I’m fucking with you,Maximoff.”
I blink and blink. “It’s like you want to be kicked out of the bed.” I bite into my chicken biscuit. “You get a pass for bringing me breakfast. You’rewelcome.”
“I didn’t saythank you,” he tellsme.
I shake my head. “I swear you get off on pissing on mysarcasm.”
He lifts his brows in a wave, but his smile slowly and surely morphs into a real frown. I realize he’s been stirring his oatmeal. Not eating. Farrow pretty much always eats hurriedly in case SFO needshim.
I straighten even more. Then I take a larger sip of hot tea. “What’sup?”
“We need totalk.”
My stomach nosedives, and my brows cinch. “What about?” I jump to the worst conclusion. This is the end of my short-lived relationship. He woke up this morning and realized he couldn’t bear to spend another day withme.
I think about last night. I think about sex. Did I hurt him? Was I somehow selfish? Is that it? No…no, that can’t beit.
Even assured about that, something raw and cold impales my chest. Like an iron fist banging against my ribs. I solidify tostone.
Dear World, did he just bring me a “break up” breakfast? Is that even a thing? Worst regards, a broken-heartedhuman.
My guardsskyrocket.
I mortar my face with nothingness. Pushing out the hurt. Preparing myself for anything and everything. Bones rigid, shoulderssquared.
I can handlethis.
Farrow scoots around to face me, his knees casually bent. He keeps a hand on my leg. I can’t tell if it’s in pity orcomfort.
“Generally,” I say in a flat voice, “when someone says they need to talk, theytalk.”
“I’m getting there.” He’s not looking forward to this conversation. That’s forsure.
Appetite lost, I wrap up the chicken biscuit and shove it into the Wendy’s bag. I can’t sit in tense silence. “If you want to break up, just doit—”
“Whoa.” He raises a hand, eyes narrowed. “I never even considered breaking up with you. It’s not what I want.” Farrow sweeps my blank face. “…doyouwantthat?”
“No,no.Not at all.” I’m fucking confused. “We’re still goodtogether.”
“Really good,” he says, his confidence fortifying thosewords.
“Thenwhat?”
Farrow stretches forward to put his oatmeal on an end table. “That Instagram account that I showed you back at the lake house.” He seizes my gaze. “It turned out to be a realthreat.”
I shake my head. “No, there’s noway.”
“We traced the IP address to Philly. The entire security team is treating the user as a high risk toyoursafety.”
I stare off, processing this fact with little to no emotion. “Who is it?” I open Instagram on mycellphone.
Farrow hangs his arm on his bent knee. “We’re still trying to identify them.” He’s quiet. “I’m not supposed to share any of this with you, but I know you’d rather beaware.”
