Page 68 of Running to You

“I’m not that hungry. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

He turned back. “I yelled at you last night. You shouldn’t have kissed me—don’t misunderstand what I’m saying—but the way I responded wasn’t your fault. So…sorry about that.” He started the gas stove. “Consider these apology eggs.”

“I’ve never had that flavor.”

That earned a look and a tiny smile.

They were moving on from her blunder. And it hadn’t hurt that much.

She needed to ask him about Kylee, though. Would their truce end when she did?

He swirled a pat of butter in a pan and added the eggs he’d already whisked, then pulled cheese and a little bowl of chopped veggies out of the refrigerator. He seemed engrossed in the task. He’d always made breakfast when they were together. “Start the toast, would you?”

She did, then poured herself a cup of coffee. She set plates, utensils, salt, and pepper on the bar. When the toast popped, she buttered the pieces.

Sam slid the giant omelet onto one of the plates, cut it in half, and then shimmied half onto the other. “Do you need anything else?”

“Nope.” They both sat.

She salted her omelet and tried a bite. Melted cheese, onions and crunchy peppers, fluffy eggs. “Delicious.” She almost added as always, as if she’d eaten one of his omelets the week before.

“Thanks.” He forked a huge bite.

“It was Kylee, wasn’t it?”

When he turned to her, he looked almost…nervous. “You remembered.”

She started to speak, stopped. “Wait. Remembered what?” Because all those images that’d flashed through her mind were only pictures. Nothing she’d witnessed firsthand.

Sam shook his head quickly. “What about Kylee?”

“What did you mean?”

“Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

She had a very strong suspicion it did matter. A lot. But he shoved in another bite of eggs.

“Have you ever been married?”

He spluttered, swallowed, sipped from a glass of water. “What? No. Why would you ask me that?”

His words sounded true, but the images in her head didn’t lie. “I saw photographs of you and…I’m pretty sure it was Kylee. Lots of photos.”

“We’re friends, Eliza.”

“She was wearing a wedding gown. You were wearing a tuxedo.”

“Where did you see these…? Were you stalking me?” Anger hummed on his words. “I never found you on social media, so what did you do? Make up some kind of dummy account? And somehow fooled me into accepting a friend request. All so you could stalk me? What the heck?”

She kept her voice calm, refusing to respond to his anger. “I didn’t do that.”

“You don’t remember anything, but you remember not doing that? I don’t think so.”

“I didn’t see the pictures online. I saw them…” She closed her eyes, imagined them. On paper. In her hands. Folded together. “Somebody printed them out for me.” When she opened her eyes, Sam was glaring at her.

“Your mother, of course.” Bitterness tinged his words. “She and I remained friends on Facebook until recently. Though friends was never the right word for it. She probably wanted to…” He shook his head. Shoved a bite of food into his mouth. Swallowed and said, “Eat, Eliza.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”