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He shrugged. “He came clean to me. I checked out his story and it was all above board, far as I can tell. Besides,” he said and leaned in, pinching my cheek. “I’m an old romantic at heart. I want to see you happy.”
I smiled and said good night, watching as he left the bar. As I helped close up for the night, I remembered him and my grandma together. They’d been inseparable before she died a few years ago from early onset Alzheimer’s. Now he was all alone, with nothing but me and his bar as far as close, reliable family went.
If he felt so certain about Beckett, maybe I had to trust his instincts. Of all the men I knew, his were instincts I trusted more than anything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Beckett
That Thursday afternoon, I got a strange text.
PHANTOMJOCK: Make your move.
I read the message over and frowned. Phantomjock?
Then I remembered that Miranda’s grandfather had been a Marine fighter pilot in Vietnam, flying the F-4 Phantom in combat.
What did he mean, make my move? He must have spoken to Miranda about me on Tuesday… Was he encouraging me to try one more time?
I thumbed a text back.
BECKETT: Thank you, sir.
Then I sent Miranda a text.
BECKETT: Meet me for coffee. Or lunch. Or dinner. Your choice of time or place. Let me explain.
I sat back and waited for a response, not sure whether she’d agree.
Finally, later that evening as I sat alone in my office, working late again as usual, I got a text.
MIRANDA: Why should I? You lied to me. How will I know what to believe?
She was right. I almost lost hope at that point.
BECKETT: You’re right. Let me at least explain what happened. You deserve to know.
There was a long pause, and I half expected to never hear from her again. An hour passed. Then two.
When the end of the usual business day came, I had given up all hope.
Then, I heard my cell ding, indicating a new text message.
I grabbed my phone and checked.
MIRANDA: Not promising anything but I do want to know exactly what happened. The military never gave us any details. You were there, so you can tell me what happened and why my husband had to die.
That hurt and I felt a sick sensation in my gut. I closed my eyes and tried to stop from overreacting.
BECKETT: Where do you want to meet?
There was a pause. Finally, she replied.
MIRANDA: Tomorrow at your uncle’s restaurant. It’s not too far from my apartment. 1:00.
Even though it was only so I could fill in the blanks about Dan’s death, I felt relief. At least I’d be able to come clean.
BECKETT: Thank you. Meet you at 1:00.
