Jessieâs throat tightened.
She met his gaze.
âYes.
â
As she reached the door, she caught a pained, angered voice from behind.
âJessie!â
She glanced down, seething.
âEver think of this day when you ditched me? Iâm not a spring chicken anymore, Albert.
I want to settle down.
Is that too much to ask? Butt out and mind your own business!â
With that, she swung the door open, ready to depart.
But Albert grabbed her from behind.
She melted into a hug, pressed against the door.
After years, she felt his sturdy frame again.
Despite office life, he still had it.
His lips brushed her ear and his voice was low.
âIf marriage is your game, Iâd make a darn good husband.
Why go for that stuck-up man? He isnât worthy of you!â
Before he could finish, he caught a slap across the face.
They both froze, transported back three years.
Albertâs expression darkened.
He hadnât meant to hurt her.
Swallowing her rage, Jessie demanded, âMr.
Waston, forgot something?
I am never going to marry you! Whatâs your game? Why are you doing⦠this to me?â
She refused to cry.
Things were on track for her now.
She had a great boyfriend and her career was on the rise-life was sweet.
But Albert had a knack for stirring up tears.
What a jerk! What made him think sheâd marry him after his wife died?
She was done with him.
Ready to bolt, but she was stuck, her tears threatened to spill.
She looked like she could bite him to death.
Albert suddenly seized her hand and she struggled to break free.
âAlbert, what the heck?â
Compared to him, she was weak.
No matter how hard she fought, she couldnât shake him off.
Instead, she found herself pulled into his arms.
His embrace, warmer than the cold door, was oddly comforting.
Yet she only wished to be far from him.
Panicked, she muttered, âMr.
Waston, whatâs going on?â
Albert leaned in and ki*sed her.