Immediately, she looked up at me. “I’m sorry if Ramsay shouldn’t be on the furniture, but he seemed a little off and he calmed right down when he settled there.”
Of course, he would. Anybody would if they got to be next to her for even a second. I didn’t relay that information to her though. “It doesn’t matter to me.” If I’d still had the leather couch that Mariska bought, maybe I would have given a shit given how hyper the dog was. Then again, would I have really cared if he ripped the cushions? No. Not if it meant pissing my ex-wife off in some way. Not that it mattered, considering she’d taken the furniture set that she was adamant about picking out when we moved in, along with a few other pieces—art, mostly. It was the only way she and Della had gotten along. They both enjoyed going to exhibits in the city, especially new ones that were limited time, so they could talk about whatever the hell method was used or where they felt something would go in the house.
“You’re angry,” she murmured, moving the pad off her lap. Today she donned basic jeans and a gray shirt that’s collar showed a little too much cleavage from the deep V.
“I’m not.”
“You’re glowering.” Was I?
“Thinking about Mariska.” It was all it took for understanding to cross her face. She reached over and ran a hand down the dog’s back. Ramsay stretched out beside her in satisfaction.
“Did she call you?”
“What?”
Her brows went up. “Did you hear from Mariska? I mean, it’d make sense if that’s why you’re in a bad mood. If I were in your shoes, I probably would be too.”
Rounding the couch, I sighed as I dropped onto a cushion opposite of her. The dog was in the middle, acting as a barrier to leave plenty of space between us. “I hope you never have to be in my shoes someday to understand.”
“How so?”
The chuckle escaped me quietly. “Being divorced and bitter doesn’t exactly make people want to be around you.”
“Do you want people to be around you?”
I turned my head to look at her, her eyes trained on me like she was trying to figure out my answer before I said it. “Most days? No.”
Her lips twitched.
“But even assholes like me enjoy having company from time to time,” I added, voice even. I didn’t tell her what company I wanted, but she seemed to draw her own conclusions with a muffled noise climbing from her throat.
“Is that your way of apologizing?”
I lifted a shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said next, making me sigh again. Before I could tell her she didn’t, she added, “Are you lonely? Is that why you want company?”
The way her words rushed past her lips made me think she hadn’t really wanted to ask but needed an answer. It was endearing in a possessive kind of way and I shouldn’t have liked her needing to know but did. “What’s it to you, Della? I’m a grown man. I need specific company I doubt you’d get.”
She scoffed this time, her legs uncrossing as she shifted her body towards me. Ramsay was startled and jumped off the couch, curling up on the floor under the aged wood coffee table. “You said the other day that I was a grown woman, so how would I not know what kind of company adults like to keep?”
Eye twitching, I ground out, “You better not know.”
Amusement flickering across her face made me realize my mistake instantly. She’d gotten to me and she knew it. There were days I bet she even planned as much, just like when she was little and demanded my attention, and my attention alone.
I swiped a palm across my stubbled jaw, knowing I needed to shave again soon. I’d been too busy to care, staying home more than not until the running rodent was better trained and could be trusted alone while I was out. “You are an adult. Doesn’t mean I have to like it or what the implications are.”
Her laugh was soft, cut short as she scooted over to me. My body tensed as she put a palm on my knee, not moving or gripping or kneading which would have driven my cock to harden even more than it already was. Della was innocent in the way she touched me right now, but when I met her eyes…
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” She batted her lashes.
I moved her hand away. “Sometimes I think there’s evil under that good girl smile of yours.”
Her eyes dulled as she pulled back. “Why do people keep calling me that? Just because I follow the rules doesn’t mean I’m some goody-two-shoes.”
“Whoa.” I studied her. “What was that about? Who’s been calling you that?”
She grumbled out something I couldn’t understand before scooting back to her side.
“Della.”
“Theo.”
I dropped my head on the back of couch and closed my eyes for a second. “We both know that whatever was happening couldn’t. That’s all. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“You didn’t,” she snapped.
I eyed her knowingly.
“I’m just sick of people telling me what I am all the time.” Her admission made me tense, because I knew it meant she’d been going through shit that she hadn’t said a word about. When had she stopped coming to me about things that upset her? “You know how I mentioned I’d seen Sam for the first time in years? Well, it was when I went to see Katrina. Sam and Gina were there making comments. It just…I’m not
