ADDICTED

20

LEAH

Despite the insane and stressful day I had, I couldn't help but stifle a smile as I sat at the dinner table across from James.

He had made me smile and even laugh after all the bad shit. As much as I tried to tell myself I didn't want to be here, James saved me today. I honestly didn't know where Foxy and I would have been now if not for him.

He was so calm and in control the entire day, despite blow after blow. It was terrifying how much he comforted me.

I didn't want to rely on him for that. I wanted to be fearless and secure on my own. Some part of me understood it was going to be a while until I felt okay enough to live alone again.

I was struck by a sense of Deja Vu earlier when James interrupted my noodle boiling. I felt like I'd been transported back through time to the first time I was in Jarrod's condo, when we made spaghetti together. Our chemistry overcame rationality and we'd lost all track of time. We burned the noodles and ruined everything.

My chest ached a bit at the memory. Then I remembered the night he recorded us having sex. Some of the betrayal and violation that simmered inside me that day I saw it on his phone still burned away at me now.

I scooped a bite of the creamy, cheesy pasta and stuffed it in my mouth, willing that painful memory away. The intricate flavors of different seasonings graced my tongue. This was no regular boxed Kraft or Velveeta.

My eyes flicked across the table. James chewed thoughtfully on his food, his attention on his phone. Even though I couldn't see his screen, I knew he was scrolling through work emails.

The man was largely still a mystery to me, but it didn't take but two brain cells to see how dedicated he was to his work.

"You know, you don't have to let work follow you after hours," I told him. "It's not good for the heart or brain."

James lifted his face and I was jarred to see it so completely devoid of motion. I was used to his openness after he'd been so sensitive and attentive today. Now, it was like his walls had shot back up.

While I was tempted to look away from his intense gaze, I forced myself to look more closely at his eyes, barely noticing the emotion whirling behind his emerald shields. Setting the device aside, he leaned into the table and clasped his hands together. A lock of hair rolled over onto his forehead. Ignoring it, he licked a drop of cheese from the corner of his mouth.

My heart crawled into my throat and stammered in a new, frantic rhythm.

How could one human be so breathtaking?

"I like being responsive to clients and we have a number who live in different time zones," he said. "It's what keeps me going. That is how I've been successful."

I gulped, reddening again at what sounded like chastisement. Well, fuck me for giving a damn about your mental health.

His upper lip twitched like he was refraining from a smirk as he said, "Secondly, who said I was doing work stuff, Miss Harris?"

"Well, I know you weren't scrolling through Instagram or swiping on Tinder," I countered while desperately trying to fight off the stupid blush staining my cheeks. "You just validated my assumption anyway, Mr. Muller. You're a workaholic."

"I use social media like any other modern person," he scoffed. "I need it for networking."

"Uh-huh." I smile, satisfied at finally ruffling his perfectly arranged feathers. "And who do you follow on Instagram?"