Page 30 of No Strings Attached
Reality crashes back in.
He’s your new client’s son.
This is a holiday dinner.
I pull my hand back, placing it in my lap.
“No, I don’t have plans,” I say, directing the answer to Worth with a practiced smile. “Work is grounding for me. It’s been a chaotic few months, and I thought a change of scenery might help.”
It’s true and vague enough to keep me from unraveling at the table.
Worth nods, thankfully satisfied, and the conversation drifts to something about New Year’s Eve fireworks. I take a sip of water, pretending that my pulse isn’t racing and Henson’s hand isn’t still sitting idle on his leg, where mine just was.
I came to Nantucket for a reset.
So why does everything feel even messier now?
11
IT’S NOT OVER
HENSON
Ican still feel Amira’s hand on my thigh like it’s seared into my skin, and it’s driving me insane.
I reach for the glass of red wine in front of me.
It’s almost warm now, untouched since before the mashed potatoes made it around the table.
“You’re seriously fucked,” I mumble under my breath and take a long sip. One of my cousins glances at me, their brows furrowed.
I need space.
The second the dinner plates are cleared and someone suggests dessert, I rise from my chair and mutter something about needing to make a work call. No one questions it. My family practically expects me to disappear at least once during any major event or social gathering.
I slip down the hallway to the office on the main floor. It’s quiet inside and smells like old books and cedar polish. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, I exhale, sinking into the leather armchair behind the desk and pulling out my phone. The screen lights up with unread notifications.
A long string of texts from Gen sits at the top.
Gen: You left me on a cliffhanger, you jerk.
Gen: Did you get out of Seattle?
Gen: Or did the snow finally claim you???
Gen: HENSON.
Gen: Did you DIE?
Gen: Okay, now I’m worried.
Gen: Did you make it to Nantucket?
I slap my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Shit.”
I totally forgot I hung up on her yesterday mid-chaos at the airport trying to reroute myself.
Me: Made it to Nantucket. Sorry for ghosting, I got… sidetracked. Merry Christmas, Gen. Bonus coming soon, I promise.
