Page 79 of Darling Venom
The envelope crinkled in my grip. At this point, it resembled something from the two-for-one clearance bin at the 99-Cents Store.
My confidence evaporated.
I stared at the hardwood panels, looking everywhere but at Tate. “I have to go.”
Tate blocked my path, steadying me when I collided with his chest. My pulse thrummed against my neck. His scent invaded the small gap between us and left me dizzy.
I felt drunk.
Unsteady.
On a downward spiral I’d never recover from.
He lowered his voice, but it came out rough. On edge. “Why did you come, Charlotte?”
He still had his hand beneath my elbow.
I stepped back, waving the envelope in the air like an idiot. “Reagan sent me over to give this to you. It’s an invitation to her gender-reveal party.”
He stared at the wrinkled envelope, my thumb mark on it, and the hand that held it before plucking it from my fingers. I hiked in a breath when our skin touched.
My hands curled into fists.
I tucked them into my dress pockets and picked at the loose threads of the lining. “There’s a ninety-nine percent chance you’ll be the only man there. If you go.”
That’s it.
You did your job.
Stop talking.
Leave, Charlotte.
Tate flipped it over, read his name on the front, and tossed it onto the foot-high pile of thank-you cards on his desk.
I flattened the skirt of my dress. “Her dad died two years ago. She has no siblings. And well, the babies came from a sperm donor, so there’s no father in the picture.” Tate’s medical degree glared at me from its spot on the wall. “Oh. Right. You’re her doctor. You knew that already.”
Oh, God.
It got worse the more I talked.
He settled into his chair. “Why are you still here, Ms. Richards?”
Yeah, good question.
My feet remained rooted to the floor.
I pinned my gaze on the rows of textbooks behind him and blurted, “You owe me a signed copy of The Imperfections.”
“I’ll send it to your office using a courier service.” He raised a brow, eyes flicking to the invitation. “Those exist, by the way. Reagan has sent me several things through a courier in the past.”
I had no answer to that, so I said the only thing I could think of. “Don’t forget to RSVP.”
It sounded like something my mother would have said, which made my cheeks flame.
“Will you be there?”
“Yes.”
