Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
He only responds with a tight smile.
“I’m not going to let this change us and who we are.”
“I don’t want you to be in danger,” he answers me, leaning back in his seat and casually glancing to his left and right. I recognize a man sitting alone a few tables away. Occasionally he glances up at us. It was Evan’s concession and I allow it.
“Too late, baby,” I say and my smile falters.
“I feel uncomfortable being here,” he says and guilt digs its claws into me at his admission. I’m trying to do what’s right. That’s all I want to do.
“I feel like”—taking a deep inhale, I steady myself to continue, meeting his concerned gaze—“like you’re perpetuating your fears by hiding away and only focusing on them. Not just focusing, but allowing them to dictate everything.” My voice cracks with the confession. I have to take another sip of water to calm myself down. “I hate that you’re constantly on edge when we leave the house.”
“You don’t understand,” he tells me with a frustrated sigh that pisses me off.
“It felt like you’d died when you left me,” I say. “So, I think I do understand.” I take another drink of water and ask, “What if the cops stop looking into what happened? They have no leads.” I stress the basic truth. “What if James gets away with it all? What then? Will you carry on like this?”
He doesn’t answer, although I can see his will to fight me has left.
“I just want us back,” I say. “That’s really what it comes down to.”
This time it’s Evan who puts his hand on the table and I’m more than happy to reach for him. He kisses my knuckles then my wrist. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against my racing pulse.
“I know you are, but what am I?” I give him a joking response to lighten the mood and it works somewhat.
As Evan’s lips pull into a smile and he relaxes his posture, he takes my hand in his.
“You know I miss this side of you?” he tells me.
“What side?”
“The playful side,” he answers and squeezes my hand … kind of like how my heart squeezes. This is the version of my husband I want all the time. The man I know and love.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I whisper just before the waiter walks up to us. “I miss it too.”
“Are you two ready to order?” the waiter asks, looking between us and clasping his hands in front of him.
“You first,” Evan says and gestures at me.
“The lasagna please, with a house salad.” I almost order a glass of cabernet but then I stop myself. Every time I remember we’re having a baby, it’s a gift in itself.
“I’ll have the same,” Evan says, and it surprises me.
When the waiter leaves, I comment with a questioning smirk, “You never have lasagna.”
He shrugs and says, “I guess I want to try it your way.”
“We have the next doctor’s appointment coming up and since you’re no longer working, I assume you’re coming with me?”
“Of course,” Evan says then nods and leans forward, lowering his voice and adding a huskiness to it that makes every inch of my body tingle. “You know you look beautiful, right?”
I can’t help the smile and blush that spread across my face at his compliment. “Stop,” I say, brushing him off.
“Never,” he answers playfully, his handsome asymmetric smile toying with my emotions.
That warm cheery feeling in my chest slowly drifts away as I remember my own little secret. Not so little, really.
“I have something to tell you,” I say, uttering the words even at the risk of upsetting Evan. I guess I waited intentionally for us to be out in public before I could tell him. “I did something that I don’t think you’re going to like.”
“What’s that?” he asks easily, although I notice his shoulders stiffen.
“I was curious about something and I think it’s something only I would know how to ask appropriately …”
I don’t know how to word this, and I find myself staring at the ice in the glass of water.
“You can tell me. Whatever it is.”
“I went to see Samantha a couple days ago. At her place on Fifth Avenue,” I tell him, confessing before I can stop myself. The air instantly changes as Evan doesn’t respond. He seems uncomfortable if anything.
“I had to know for myself.”
“What did you have to know?” He shifts in his seat
“I had to know if she was your type. What she was like. So I know how to react when her name comes up.”
Evan runs his hand down the back of his head as he looks away from me. “Her name isn’t going to come up …”
“You don’t understand—” I start to explain but he cuts me off.
“There’s no one else for me, Kat,” he tells me bluntly, his hands hitting the table and rattling the small plates. The couple a table down from us glances in our direction and Evan grimaces. Sometimes he doesn’t realize his own strength.