be fine. I have plans.’
Sure. Her plan was to shut herself away in her apartment and watch weepy movies with a vat of ice cream. But that counted as a plan, right? It wasn’t even that she was mourning Hugh—she was bereft at the loss of a dream. Because for all her lofty words she had been stupid enough to take her eye off the goal and allow herself to dream. And Hugh had crushed that dream and trampled it into the dust. Further proof—as if she’d needed it—that dreams were for idiots. Lesson learnt. Again. But this time reinforced in steel.
‘But thank you for asking.’
Ethan’s eyes bored into her and the conviction that he would ask her to expand on the exact nature of her plans opened her lips in pre-emptive strike.
‘What about your plans?’
His expression retreated to neutral. ‘They aren’t firmed up as yet.’
Obscure irrational hurt touched her that he didn’t feel able to share his plans with her. Daft! After all, it wasn’t as if she was sharing hers with him.
‘Well, I hope they sort themselves out. Right now I must go and cook. Prepare to be amazed!’
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