Dear Ex-wife Marry Me (Maja and Ian) novel Chapter 1885

Zoey's smile was a bit strained. What was this guy's deal? Couldn't he tell they were just being polite?

Henry's expression faltered as well. "But, you know, today's a bit..."

That was a diplomatic way of saying no, clear to anyone who could read between the lines.

But Fitch seemed oblivious to the hint.

"If you guys are heading out to grab a bite, mind if I tag along?"

Henry instantly realized that Fitch was there for them.

Why, though? Had there been an issue with the piano they'd sold him yesterday?

Seeing Henry at a loss for words, Zoey immediately stepped forward to intercept.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but it's not a good time for us. We're on a date, just the two of us, and we really can't include anyone else. If you're in dire need of a tour guide, we can recommend someone else or maybe some other time."

Zoey thought her words were clear enough for the man to back off.

But his gaze stayed fixed on her, intense and complex.

After a long pause, he finally uttered, "You two... what's your relationship?"

His voice was hoarse, the emotions in his eyes bordering on frightening.

Zoey frowned, and the next second, she was pulled behind Henry.

"Mr. Haskins, Zoey is my girlfriend. If there's an issue with the piano, you can contact our shop's customer service."

He took Zoey's hand, marking the first time they had held hands.

Zoey, not used to such contact, felt her cheeks flush with warmth.

Henry, ever so considerate, turned to her with a soft voice, "You go ahead and get in the car."

She nodded, turning to get in, but then Fitch's voice intensified.

"Zoey!"

"Don't be upset."

"I'm not upset. I just think he's being weird."

They reached the restaurant and just as Zoey was about to order, she caught sight of someone taking a seat nearby. Lifting her eyes, she locked gazes with Fitch.

Her brows knitted tightly. Was this man stalking them?

What on earth did he want?

It couldn't possibly be that he was smitten with her; she didn't think she had that kind of allure.

Henry noticed Fitch too, his expression turning sour at the thought of being followed.

Fitch, on the other hand, remained composed, elegantly scanning the menu and making his selections before sitting quietly to the side.

Henry had planned to confess his feelings, but now, with a human chandelier at the next table, he found it difficult to broach the subject, the awkwardness palpable.