Chapter 18
Connor sat at the little yellow-and-blue-tiled coffee table back in Trish’s hotel room, running his fingertips along the light gray grout lines between the squares. Nice and smooth, that grout. Someone had taken care to put enough down to begin with, then taken the time to level it out.
Focusing on that felt safe to him. Reassuring. Something he was pretty good at, but he knew he could get better with practice. Maybe as good as whoever had made this table.
He wasn’t at all sure he was good at relationships, friends with benefits or not. And he didn’t feel the least bit confident he’d ever get better at it.
Trish hadn’t said a word on the walk back to the hotel, though she’d slipped her arm around his waist again about halfway there. As soon as they got to her room, she’d gon
