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“She was that soft.”
“Did you…” I trail off, the question catching in my throat.
“Go ahead, ask. If you don’t voice your question, you might never know the answer.”
“Did you ever love her?” My words are small, barely audible.
“I thought I did, in my own way. Alicia was my wife, the mother of my only son, and she did everything I asked without giving me attitude about it.” He stares down his nose at me, driving the point home.
“Well, sorry I’m not a replica of her.”
His lips pull in what resembles a smile. “That, you aren’t. So far.”
“What do you mean by so far?”
Jonathan’s phone vibrates and Moses’s name flashes on the screen.
He puts the phone to his ear, listens without speaking, then hangs up. The line between his brow creases as he stares at me in a strange way.
It’s the second time Jonathan has looked at me like this — like he’s seeing a ghost. The first time was at Aiden’s wedding.
“What is it?” I murmur. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“There were no flash drives in the car.”
“Of course there were. I put them in there myself. Are you sure Moses didn’t get rid of them?”
“Moses would never do something without my order.”
“They’re in the glove box. I’ll go check myself.”
He grips me by the arm, disallowing me from leaving his side. His expression falls, almost like he’s disappointed, but in what? And why the hell do I hate that he’s directing that expression at me?
“Why the hell do you keep looking at me like that?” I snap.
“Are you sure you received those messages?” His tone, although not harsh, feels like a slap across my face.
“Of course I did! Do you think that I…I made it up or something?”
He says nothing, but that expression doesn’t disappear. If anything, the line in his forehead deepens.
“I received recordings from Alicia, Jonathan. I did!”
When he continues his infuriating silence, tears form in my eyes — angry ones. Why the hell is his disbelief affecting me so much? All I want is to reach out and erase that look off his beautiful face. I don’t want him regarding me that way, not now. Not ever.
“Paul!” I snatch his phone. “I’ll call the concierge of my building. He’s the one who contacted me whenever I had a wooden package that contained a flash drive. I’m going to put it on speaker so you can hear that I’m right.”
Energy bubbles in my veins as I unlock the phone using Jonathan’s fingerprint and punch in Paul’s number. I learnt it by heart from how much I manically checked to see if I’d gotten a new message.
Jonathan doesn’t stop me as I place the phone between us while it rings.
“Hello,” Paul’s voice comes from the other side.
“Hey, Paul. This is Aurora from 19.”
“Hello, Miss Harper.”
What’s with the formality in his tone? Anyway, that’s not what’s important right now. “Paul, remember when you used to call me whenever I received a small wooden box?”
