Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“No,” she replied.
We were lucky, and the end booth was open. She slid in the side facing the wall, and I slid across from her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.
She blew out a long breath. “That’s the first time I’ve been out on my own since it happened,” she admitted. “I’ve never felt so exposed before. I was afraid to take my eyes off my drink. And because I didn’t know the bartender, I was afraid to drink it.” She shook her head. “I never thought about it so much before. Then when that guy came over, all I could think about was making sure I kept my eyes on my glass. It can happen so fast.” She lifted her shoulders. “The stats. The stories. It happens so often, Brett. It’s frightening.”
I took her hands. “I’m sorry I was late. I’m sorry you were so nervous on your own.”
She squeezed my fingers. “That’s all new for me. A year ago, I would have been careful but not paranoid. Especially here.”
I shook my head. “You’re not paranoid. You have to be aware.”
The waitress came over, and Kelly straightened. “Let’s talk about something else and enjoy the evening.”
We spent some time talking about what to order for dinner and decided on a bottle of wine. When it arrived, Kelly took a sip and hummed in satisfaction. “Delicious.”
Over appetizers, she told me the editor asked her for more photos. “Rob said the phone was ringing off the hook at the paper this afternoon. He wants another picture spread of the town, plus another weekend fun one.”
“That’s great. You’ll be busy.”
“Theo goes to school soon. Gabby found a great day care that will take them both right now, so she is happy to do two or three days a week in the garage,” Kelly said. “Charly is the same, and I can pick up the slack until you find the right permanent replacement,” she finished. “I know neither of them wants full time.”
I schooled my features not to show my reaction. It was a punch in the gut. A reminder that this wasn’t forever. I concentrated on the actions of eating my salad, chewing the hot bread that came with it. Sipping my wine to stop myself from reacting.
Kelly was still talking, but I was only half listening. She was going to leave. I knew that. I had known it all along, but hearing her voice did something to my chest. It ached, knowing we’d say goodbye again. Knowing she’d leave and be somewhere in the world without me. Without my protection. Without my love.
And I’d be here. Without her.
“Brett?”
I looked up, meeting her worried gaze. “Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.”
“You’re crying,” she whispered in shock.
“What?” I lifted my hand, feeling the dampness on my cheek. I wiped it away, forcing a smile. “No, my eyes are tired and sore. I got some stuff in them earlier, and they keep watering. I’m fine.” I shoved a large piece of bread into my mouth, chewing and swallowing. “I’m good.”
She looked at me suspiciously. “Are you sure?”
I wanted her in that office beside me where I could see her, even if it was only once a week. I wanted dinners like this where we celebrated simple things. I wanted every night with her alone, wrapped around her in a bed we shared.
But I couldn’t say any of that. She would only leave sooner.
So I did what I did best when it came to Kelly. I smiled and lied.
“I’m good, Shutterbug. I’m good.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kelly
I blew out a sigh, stealing a glance at Brett. He was talking with Maxx, Stefano, and the contractor, making the final tweaks to the design. He stood with his back to the wall, his arms crossed, concentrating, listening, and nodding on occasion.
It was odd how my gaze was drawn to him all the time. Wherever he was in the garage, I would find him, watching him, studying him.
Since our dinner the other night, he had been different. We’d gone back to my place afterward, and we’d had another drink and ended up in bed. Not a surprise, but it was his lovemaking that struck me as different. I was used to Brett being in control. His low curses and dirty promises. How he touched me, always gentle, yet with intent.
He’d been quieter. No demands. His words had been few and uttered in a tone so low, I couldn’t understand what he was saying. His kisses were deep and passionate, his touch bringing only pleasure, yet I had a feeling he was holding back. As if part of him had stepped away.
I missed that part.
His tears at dinner had shaken me. Although he denied it, he couldn’t hide his sorrow. He refused to discuss it, brushing it off as having had problems all day with dust and watery eyes, but I knew he wasn’t telling me the truth. I didn’t know how to get him to confide in me.