More Than Anything (Broken Pieces 1)

Finally, her eyes met his dark-blue stare, and she was startled to see him doing a similar inspection of her body and face.

“When did you get here?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“About five minutes ago.” Her voice wasn’t hoarse, but her throat felt parched.

“You made good time.”

“I broke a few speed limits along the way.” Why were they having this inane discussion? They rarely indulged in casual conversation.

Then again, they never had the opportunity to talk, not when—despite his best efforts to the contrary—she tried to avoid him like the plague. She could very happily go through her entire life without ever having to speak with him again.

“You look nice,” he said, and she blinked at him. Blinked some more and then shook her head blankly.

The hell . . . ?

“I think I’ll go see Libby now,” she said, glad that she probably didn’t sound as freaked out as she felt. She sidestepped him, deliberately giving him a wide berth so as to avoid accidentally brushing against him.

“Tina . . .”

She stopped and turned to face him. He looked uncertain, and that was enough to make her pause. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him uncertain before.

He offered her a tiny smile. Nothing remotely like his usual cocky grin. “Would you like to grab a coffee with me? After you’ve visited with Libby.”

Would she?

Hell no! Not in a million lifetimes.

“No. Thank you.” She kept her voice scrupulously polite, and his smile wavered slightly.

“Right. Next time maybe.”

“I doubt it.”

His brow furrowed, and he cleared his throat. He looked like he was about to speak again, but Tina beat a hasty retreat. She and Harris Chapman did not do amicable. And they never would.

“Greyson?” Libby’s groggy voice called out when Tina pushed her way into her friend’s lavish private room. Libby sounded so hopeful, and Tina hated to be the one to dash that hope.

“It’s just me,” she said apologetically as she stepped fully into the room. Her friend, who had pushed herself up into a half-seated position, lay back down with a despairing little sigh.

“He’s on his way,” Tina assured her. “His plane just landed.”

“I begged him not to leave. I told him the baby was due any day. I think—” She bit off whatever she’d been about to say and shook her head. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter what I think. He’s a busy man. I knew that when I married him. Have you seen her yet?”

“I thought I’d pop in and see my bestie first. The baby has her grandparents and uncle fawning over her right now; she doesn’t need me.”

“She’s so beautiful.”

“Of course she is—with such disgustingly attractive parents, she was bound to be a looker.” Although Tina was living proof that outstanding parental genes didn’t always guarantee good looks. She shook her head, disgusted with her private little pity party for one. For the most part, Tina was happy with her appearance—she liked her curly, shoulder-length red hair and her sun-loathing skin with its millions of freckles. It had taken years for her to get to the point of self-acceptance, so to find herself even thinking about these things not just once but twice in the same night was a little disconcerting. Seeing Harris after so long didn’t help either. He always reminded her of the dumb, insecure girl she had once been. It was one of the many good reasons she actively avoided the man.

“What will you name her?” Tina asked, determined to shove away her unease after her encounter with Harris. He no longer influenced any part of her life, and he certainly didn’t possess the power to hurt her. Not ever again.

“I have a few ideas, but I wanted to discuss them with Greyson first. He’s bound to have an opinion.” Libby smiled, but the movement of her lips looked stiff and unnatural.

“Of course,” Tina said, keeping her voice soft and reassuring. Libby looked fragile, like the slightest harsh word would physically tear her apart. Tina cursed Greyson for his negligence and disinterest. He had never seemed fully onboard with Libby’s pregnancy. Had missed every single one of her OB-GYN appointments; Tina had accompanied her friend to those. She had gone shopping for baby things with Libby, had bounced nursery ideas back and forth with her friend. Greyson hadn’t been present for any of that.

And worse, when Libby had fallen early in her third trimester and had feared a possible miscarriage, her husband’s phone had been off, and he’d been unreachable. True to Chapman form, Greyson was an absolute asshole. What Libby saw in the man was beyond Tina.

“How was family dinner tonight?” Libby asked, and Tina smiled. How like her friend to remember—even after going through labor—that the Jensons had had their bimonthly family dinner. It spoke volumes about the type of person she was. Sweet and caring. A much better friend than Tina deserved.