Page 45 of No Strings Attached
“Yeah. You’ve got this whole polished, no-nonsense boss energy, but I don’t know. There’s something else underneath it. Like you’ve had to fight for that control.”
Her burger stills in her hands.
For a second, I think maybe I’ve pushed too far.
Then she sets it down gently, her gaze narrowing. “You’re observant.”
“I try.”
Amira huffs out a soft laugh, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I got into events because it gave me structure. Deadlines. Clear timelines. A start, a finish. I like knowing what to expect.”
“And people?”
She hesitates. “People are the unpredictable part.”
“But you’re good with them.”
“I’ve had practice.”
I lean forward, elbows resting on the table. “Can I ask something else?”
A wary kind of amusement dances across her face. “You’re going to anyway.”
“What are you running from?”
She goes still. Her jaw works, like she’s deciding whether or not to lie.
“Who says I’m running?”
I offer a small shrug. “You said so yourself, remember? At the airport when you were telling me about our adorable Hallmark story,” I tease.
Amira studies me for a long second with a small smile, then looks away, focusing on a string light above us.
“I think when you spend a long time making yourself small for someone else, you forget how to take up space. So maybe I’m not running. Maybe I’m trying to remember who I was before I stopped beingme.”
My chest tightens.
Suddenly, I don’t just want to know her. I want toprotecther.
I sit back, swallow hard, and offer the smallest, softest truth I can manage.
“For what it’s worth, I see you.”
When Amira meets my eyes again, something is different.
Her voice comes out soft. “Thank you. I see you, too.”
“I know.” We don’t break eye contact. “So why don’t you give me a chance?”
“Because our lives are so different, Henson.”
“How so?”
“Technically we live in the same city. But I’m a small event planner with a tiny apartment and a closet full of department store sweaters. I don’t have a fancy car, a driver, or savings that can survive a single emergency.”
I smirk.
“What?”
