Page 16 of Drowning in Darkness

Duke’s head appears on my lap. He finished his breakfast before I had three bites of mine, and now he’s going to drool on my lap until he gets a treat. It’s not lost on me that I’ve started to forgo the onions I love so he can have some of my meal.

I give him a scratch behind his ears, and an entire chapter goes by before I realize I’m almost done. I wink at Duke and let him have my plate on the floor, which he cleans like his sole purpose in life is to make china sparkle.

I grin as I load the dishwasher. “Quick shower, buddy, then we can go pester your parents.”

He drops onto the sofa with a long-suffering sigh.

I eyeball the lilies once more. Still there. A reminder of my past staring me in the face.

And the prize for the queen of wishful thinking goes to... Stephanie King.

Honor has the attention of many people on the sidewalk as she explains the latest happenings with the foundation. It’s not so much what it does—that alone is the most important part, and she wouldn’t have it any other way—but the way she holds her own and speaks so passionately about her vision and how the legal system is fucked. Although she puts it much more eloquently for the pearl clutches among her impromptu audience.

We’re here for a very important donor meeting. She told me earlier, “That man has cash to burn, and I’m more than happy to use it to set fire to the shitty assholes who raise their hands and abuse their partners.”

I decide to go into the cafe ahead of her. The divine scent of ground coffee and warm, fresh out of the oven pastries swirls around me as I join the long line, finding myself caught in that weird part where I’m literally propping the door open with one foot in and my other out of the premises.

My phone rings in my purse again.

“For fuck’s sake, brother,” I grumble, flicking the damn thing on silent. Whatever it is can wait until I’ve had my carb fix.

“Overbearing, is he?” a familiar male voice asks from behind me.

I spin and come face to face with the man from the balcony. The one with steely, unnerving eyes.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt. I don’t care that I’m being rude. He’s disconcerting, bordering on creepy.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“This is my town.”

He cocks his head. “And yet here we both are.”

“It’s a small town for a chance meeting.”

He holds a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Stephanie.”

Did I tell him my name?

“I’m confused.” And unnerved.

“Like ninety percent of other Americans at this time of day, I’m grabbing a coffee, and if I’m not mistaken, I can smell apple pie.”

Someone decides it’s a great time to leave the cafe, meaning I have to squash to the side to let them out. Christopher’s gaze skims over me, and I don’t enjoy his attention one bit. It makes every hair on arms stand on end.

My eyes narrow. I have to stop behaving like a fawn around men like this. I fold my arms. “No, not in a cafe, in this cafe.”

“Is it a private, invitation-only sort of place?” He looks around for the nonexistent sign.

“Don’t be ridiculous. But you can’t expect me to believe you happened to be in this small town grabbing a coffee at the same time as myself.”

“I have a meeting with your boss.”

“You’re the donor?”

“Potential.”

Shit. I’ve insulted someone who could bankroll an expansion of Honor’s vision to save countless more lives.