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The apartment was quiet as it always was. She couldn’t wait to be gone from there. Be gone from all things Lucian. She faced Parker and came up short. He was right behind her.
She waited for him to say something. The sun was fading and they should probably turn on a lamp. Thinking that was the perfect reason to turn away from his confusing stare, she did just that.
The spell broke, and he moved to the pantry and began rummaging in the kitchen. “We should have gotten some milk while we were there.”
She took a seat at the counter and watched him as he pulled out various containers and stacked them on the counter.
“Do you plan on cooking something?” she asked.
“Aren’t you hungry? I’m starved.”
She said nothing. She considered her hunger, but her appetite was being a finicky bitch. She knew better than to turn down food though. “Do you know how to cook?”
“Sure. What’s not to know?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I can heat up canned stuff, but I don’t know how to use kitchen things. The oven scares me, and once I put something in the microwave and a huge blue spark snapped.”
He laughed. “How about grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
Scout smiled as her stomach clenched in agreement. “Sounds delicious.”
Parker threw down a mean grilled cheese. The soup was from a can, but perfectly thick and warm, heating her insides up just right. They ate and talked about safe topics like the weather, St. Christopher’s, and Pearl.
“Have you been to visit her lately?”
“Not since I left. The place she’s staying at is far.”
“I could take you,” he offered.
She met his gaze. “How?”
“I could rent a car.”
“Parker, that would be a fortune. It’s not in the city.”
“So. I have money.”
“Don’t waste your money on me—”
He caught her hand before she could reach for the other half of her sandwich. “Hey, it wouldn’t be a waste. It would make you happy and that would make me happy. Money’s meant to be spent, Scout. Let’s go see Pearl. I miss her.”
The fact that he could actually say that and mean it did things to her insides she didn’t quite understand. Pearl was such a troubling part of who she was, yet Parker got it. He’d always gotten it. Pearl was her mother and that was that.
She smiled shyly and nodded. “Okay, I’d like that.”
After dinner she helped Parker do the dishes in comfortable silence, then took a shower. As she stood in the door to her bedroom, she stared at the large, undisturbed bed dominating the space.
He left her and was never coming back. The dull familiar pain came as usually with the thought. She missed him.
Scout changed into soft cotton pants and a loose fitting T-shirt. She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair, her gaze routinely being pulled to her bag. Her eyes skittered to the door and back to her bag.
Slowly she placed the brush on the nightstand and picked up her bag. She dug in the deep pockets until the weight of her phone filled her hand.
Examining the object for several long minutes, she thought. What was he doing at the moment? Was he alone? Was he happy? Did he still think about her?
Her thumb slid over the screen bringing the device to life. Under contacts she found four numbers, Lucian Cell, Lucian Office, Penthouse, and Dugan. Other than that there was nothing.
Three bars showed in the top left of the screen. Her thumb trailed longingly over his name. What if she called?
Before she considered what she was doing, she pressed the number that said Lucian Cell and brought the phone to her ear. It went immediately to voice mail.
“Hello, you’ve reached Lucian Patras. Leave a message after the tone.”
The sound of his voice was like a blade slicing through her. Warmth pulled like blood, and pain ran cold, turning her veins to ice. She ended the call and tossed the phone aside.
She couldn’t keep doing this. She needed to move on. He was in France and apparently not alone.
Standing, she went to the living room and found Parker sitting on the couch. Lamplight pooled around him. He was reading. As he heard her approach, he looked up from the pages of the same tattered paperback and smiled gently.
“Hey.”
“What are you reading?”
He flipped to the faded cover. “To Kill a Mockingbird.” He gestured to the space beside him and Scout settled in.
This was good. This was familiar. This, reading with Parker, was one of her favorite pastimes.
“Should I start back at the beginning?”
His finger was wedged against the spine, showing her he’d already read half the book. “Just catch me up.”
He sighed happily and placed his arm over the back of the sofa, drawing her close to his side. Again, she noticed the odd way he’d taken to touching her, but her skin was so starved for contact, she didn’t object.
