Chapter 8
The next morning at breakfast, I was sporting impressive dark circles under my eyes.
So was Harrison.
Mr. Astor looked like he’d aged a decade overnight.
“What happened?” Sloane gaped. “Did nobody sleep?”
“Just… adjusting to a different bed,” I mumbled.
“Same here. New room,” Harrison added curtly.
Mr. Astor shot Harrison an exhausted glare. “New room? More like you were stalking me. Every time
I stepped out to use the bathroom, there you were, lurking like some Victorian ghost. I haven’t had
such a disturbed night since your sister’s teenage rebellion phase.”
“What kind of person needs the bathroom eight times in one night?” Harrison challenged.
“I’m getting older! It’s called an overactive bladder, look it up in your fancy medical books!” Mr. Astor snapped, throwing down his napkin and storming off – his second consecutive meal
abandoned in indignation.
No wonder he stayed so trim.
“Hey,” Sloane said through a mouthful of croissant, “Harrison can drive you to work. I’ve got meetings downtown.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t impose on Dr. Astor. I’ll just grab an Uber,” I protested quickly.
“It’s on my way,” Harrison stood, his ears suspiciously pink. “Here, let’s exchange numbers. For… coordination purposes.”
As I hesitated, Sloane snorted. “Seriously, brother? Making her split gas money for a simple ride? That’s peak Harrison Astor behavior.”
Oh. That explained it. I’d been reading too much into things.
I quickly pulled out my phone and PayPal’d him $60.
“Will that cover it?”
The Ice Prince’s Love Prescription: I’m Your Remedy to Forget Your Ex
3.1%
Chapter 8
Harrison just stared at Sloane in defeated silence, looking like a man who’d run out of both energy
and options.
