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Except Derek has decided to ignore the attraction between us and has started going out with Dee. From the gossip I’ve heard, she only moved into the area three months ago and has been after Derek right from the start.
She’s okay I guess. Certainly, much closer to his age than I am. Twenty plus years isn’t all that much when you really think about it. At least that’s what I tell myself, but it obviously is too big of a gap for Derek to handle.
Twice a week I have to sit through dinner at the house while she whittles on about everything and nothing. I’m not sure Derek even pays attention. I certainly don’t.
As I watch him standing with his back to me, a tear falls, running down my cheek. Being here isn’t doing anything positive for me anymore. All I’m doing is hurting myself by watching the man I’ve fallen for, date someone else. I’ve seen him kiss her cheek as he sees her to her car after dinner, and sometimes I wonder whether he’s holding back for my benefit. I don’t want to think about it anymore.
I need to concentrate on the paintings he’s commissioned me to do and then leave. Hopefully I’ll be able to get on with my life when I get away from here. Maybe I’ll head back to Boston and be there for Paige. We could help each other. Although I have a feeling the guy who’d refused to leave her room, once she had finally allowed him inside, would have something to say about that. He certainly wanted to be wherever Paige was.
Someday, I want to find that. A man who isn’t ashamed to be with me. Someone who will look at me the way that Garrett looks at Sirena—as though she’s his whole world. I don’t think I’ll ever get that here. Derek can’t seem to get past the age difference enough to even be friendly with me. All I get is grunts in response to questions. He couldn’t care less.
Glancing at him one last time, I say, “I’m going to bed.”
His head snaps around, and then a frown appears across his brows. “What’s wrong?”
He steps toward me.
I take a step away, shaking my head. “Nothing.” I clear my throat from the emotional lump I’ve been trying to swallow. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Before he can say anything else, I dash inside and up to my room. With the door closed, I turn the lock and slowly slide down to the floor. My tears are no longer contained, and they flow freely down my face. My shoulders shake while I try to muffle the sound of my anguish. My tears are for Paige because seeing her looking so sick had scared me to death, which I hope I’d hidden well. I’m also crying because for the first time, in a very long time, I feel alone. Just once it would be nice to have someone wrap his arms around me and hold me tight. Someone who cares about my pain.
32
Derek
Waiting for my first cup of coffee of the day to brew in the Keurig, I rub the tiredness from my eyes. I haven’t slept well in forever, letting Madison go up to bed last night when there had clearly been something wrong had taken everything out of me.
I’d wanted to make her tell me what was going on. Why she was so sad. My conscience insisted that I was to blame, but something told me it was more than the distance I had put between us. I know that doesn’t help, especially when I refuse to acknowledge it because of our age difference. There is something more going on though.
When I’d spoken to my son Tanner yesterday, he’d asked how Madison was and had hinted that something was wrong. He’d disconnected before I could ask him further questions.
I’d wanted to ask Madison last night but seeing her so vulnerable, I knew I wouldn’t have been able to stay away from her. It’s damn tiring having her underfoot, and I’m not even sure what I was thinking when I invited her into my home. Or maybe I did. Madison is a breath of fresh air and just being near her makes me crave things that I haven’t even thought about in a very long time. It’s my feelings for her that had me asking Dee to dinner—and now I’m in a pickle. Dee drives me crazy and not in the same way as Madison does. Oh, no. Dee drives everyone crazy with her high-pitched laughter, and her constant chatter about herself and her daughter.
The more I think about it, the more I realize it’s about time I man up and tell Dee I’m no longer interested. Not that I ever really was to begin with. She had been an excuse to keep me away from Madison. I slide a hand down my face and sigh loudly wondering how the hell my life had become quite so complicated. I haven’t been involved with anyone for years and now I’m craving a twenty-five-year-old. I’m losing my mind.
Grabbing the coffee that now sits in my favorite mug at the Keurig, I pour creamer into the dark liquid and drop sluggishly into a chair at the kitchen table. Breakfast will follow shortly, but coffee is what kickstarts my day.
I value this time before I start work and it usually allows me to clear my head, except as I take a sip from my cup, I find Madison in the doorway in her usual attire of fitted leggings, some kind of fitted vest top, and a T-shirt. Her long dark hair is loose, falling softly over her shoulders with soft wisps framing her face. She’s so beautiful that my breath catches in the back of my throat.
She eyes the coffee with longing and I think I’m actually insulted. Clearing my throat, I nod toward the Keurig. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” she mumbles.
I frown noticing the dark circles under her eyes.
They probably match mine.
“Madison,” I say and wait until I have her attention, “if you need to talk, I’m here for you.” I’m not sure whether my offer is wise or not, but I can’t bear to see her looking so upset.
She nods gently and when she has her cup of coffee she joins me at the table, which surprises me. Since I’ve been an ass and had Dee coming to dinner, Madison has avoided breakfast with me as though I have the plague.
Madison takes her coffee black and when she softly blows on the warm coffee before taking a sip, I find myself unable to move. My body tightens and unless I think of something to shatter the obvious arousal, I’m not going to be able to move any time soon.
“Paige is sick,” Madison blurts out, finally meeting my gaze.
At least those words put the fire out.
“How sick?” I carefully ask.
