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No matter our past, if Max makes her happy, then he’s okay in my book. And besides, Saint trusted me in his care, so he can’t be all bad.
Ingrid and Pavel follow soon after, chatting in Russian. It’s nice to see Ingrid relaxed. I haven’t asked her about Dominic, but I have no doubt that Oscar disposed of him once he no longer served a purpose. I don’t realize my hands are burning in the scalding water I have filled the sink with until someone stands beside me and switches off the taps.
Shaking my head to clear the fog, I meet those familiar chartreuse swirls that kickstart my heart. Nothing but concern is reflected in Saint’s eyes, so I smile wearily, not wanting to worry him. He doesn’t buy it, though. “What are you thinking about?”
“A lot of things,” I reply honestly.
He reaches into the water and gently removes my hands. Reaching for a dishcloth, he dries them carefully. His touch and the kind gesture instantly send my body into overdrive, and a flush spreads from head to toe.
“Good or bad?” he questions, arching a dark brow.
My hands are dried, but I don’t fail to notice he continues to hold them in his.
“A little of both,” I reply, licking my dry lips because being this close to him sets me on fire.
He tilts his head to the side, watching me closely.
“Did you pack?” The hitch to my voice reveals what his proximity is doing to me.
His breathing is unhurried, which only seems to accelerate mine. “Yes, all set. I’ve left your things in the bathroom.”
“Thanks.”
The slow rhythm of his finger over the top of my knuckles has me soon forgetting we’re talking. Peering up at him from under my lashes, I wonder if we can skip dinner altogether and head straight for dessert. When a lopsided smirk splays across Saint’s bowed lips, I know he’s on the same page as I am.
Maybe things will be okay, after all.
However, when the backdoor opens and Alek enters, all the warm and fuzzies disappear. He stops in his tracks and looks at the table. “We’re celebrating?”
Saint turns around and leans against the counter, ensuring my hand remains locked in his. A tangible tension bounces between them as I believe Alek is sincerely stunned that Saint said no to fighting.
Zoey, of course, is the one to deliver the good or bad news, depending on which way you look at it. “Didn’t you hear? We’re going back home.”
Alek is visibly shocked by her supposed good news. “When?”
“Tomorrow,” she replies, twisting the knife in deeper.
The small twitch beneath his left eye betrays him. I’ve learned to read him just as well as he can read me. All hope is now lost. A small part of him believed we would help him fight a battle hewilllose on his own. But now, he’s realized that he’s really on his own.
It appears this really is the last supper for each of us but for entirely different reasons.
“Oh.” Alek clears his throat and smiles. “Well, this is definitely cause for a celebration then. I’m pleased for you all.”
A blind man could see he’s lying through his teeth. But I’ve made my choice. And so has he.
“If all goes well, maybe you could come visit us?” Zoey says with nothing but sarcasm. “Although, I don’t know how much traveling around you could do? New York to LA might be pushing it if you want to remain incognito.”
Is she implying what I think she is?
After everything Saint and I have been through, does she think we’re going to have a long-distance relationship? When she directs a smug smirk my way, I know that yes, she does. I don’t know what to say, but I don’t need to say a word.
“He can just visit you in New York then.”
Zoey’s grin is soon replaced with a frown. “You’re not going back home?”
Saint shrugs coolly. “A???? has to take care of a few things in LA.”Mainly my husband. “And where she goes, I go.”
Well, god damn.
