“How was lunch?” he asks. Though his expression is sincere, I find the fact that he’s immediately brought up the lunch to be suspicious. Clearly, he is jealous and it’s all my fault.
“Lunch was fun,” I answer, dragging my words out slowly. I walk around to the kitchen sink and grab a rag to wipe down Alfred’s highchair. “It was nice to catch up with Luis.” I watch Evan’s face to see if any signs of jealousy have appeared, but instead he looks apologetic.
“Ciara, listen,” he says, sounding contrite. “I’m sorry about earlier on the phone, I acted like a dick.”
This is the last thing that I expected to hear, and I have no idea how to respond. Evans didn’t really do anything wrong. I’m the one who lied and practically hung up on him. I feel so guilty that he feels bad.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Evans—”
“It’s true that I was jealous,” Evans says in a rush. “I don’t like the idea of another man spending time with you. It makes me angry. I know it’s probably crazy, but it’s how I feel.”
I stop wiping down Alfred’s chair, not liking what I’m hearing. “Does that mean you’re bothered when I talk to any other guy? Grocery store cashiers, baristas, valets, mechanics, takeout deliverers?” I ask, shocked.
“A little bit, yes,” Evans says, crossing his arms. His blue eyes flash as they wait for my response.
What the hell, that’s not right.
I know that many women would find the whole possessive, alpha guy thing to be sexy, but right now it’s just making me angry.
“That’s not fair at all, Evans. It’s hard enough for me dealing with Alfred, without having to worry about whether I can talk to somebody without making you get all pissed off and suspicious. I don’t need that extra drama in my life.”
“That’s not quite what I meant,” Evans says, rolling his eyes as though he’s annoyed.
“No, that’s exactly what you meant,” I shoot back. “You’re treating me just like you did when I was under that stupid contract.”
Evans takes a step toward me. “Ciara, you’re not listening to me.
“No, I hear you loud and clear. Be honest. Is that what you want? To put me under contract again? I still have a copy if you want to see it.” I’m practically yelling now, I’m so angry. I can feel how hot my face is. Without another word I toss the rag down and walk out of the kitchen, feeling confused, hurt, and angry.
What the hell just happened?