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“Yay! I’ll go finish it now,” he hollers before taking off to the easel, earlier panic and fear all but forgotten.
“You okay?” Jensen asks, pulling my attention back to him.
I nod, taking a small sip of cold liquid in my mouth.
“What brought that on?” he asks, his warm fingers lightly caressing my upper thighs.
“We found these letters,” I tell him, glancing around for the papers I had in my hand before the attack. Orval gathered them up. They’re a little wrinkled from my death-grip on them, but they’re still legible and intact.
“What kind of letters?” he asks, taking the stack from his uncle.
“Love letters. I think my dad was having an affair,” I whisper, hating saying the words aloud. In all honesty, I’m surprised, yet I’m not. My father worshipped his family, but my mother was a tad on the…frigid side. If he had an affair, while I don’t condone it in any way, shape, or form, I can sort of see why he might have gone looking for affection elsewhere.
God, this is hard.
Jensen reads the letter on top. His eyes fly to mine, as if seeking confirmation, before flipping the page and reading the next. And the next. Redness tinges his cheeks and his ears as he takes in the words spoken between my father and his mysterious lover.
“Where did you find these?” he chokes out, his blue eyes wide with disbelief.
“They fell out of one of the books your aunt was putting away. The Scarlet Letter. Can you believe that?”
Jensen’s entire demeanor changes. He looks…angry. His handsome face is tight and his blush more pronounced. His entire body is rigid, and not in that sexy way I’ve come to know and love.
“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching my hand forward and resting it on his.
His face softens, but only a little. He looks so forlorn, so upset. “I’m fine, Butterfly, don’t you worry about me. I’m the one who should be worried,” he says.
“I’m fine. The attack has passed,” I insist.
As soon as my words are out of my mouth, he stands up and starts to pace. Three steps to my left before turning and making half a dozen in the opposite direction. Then, he turns and does it over again. I open my mouth, but no words come out. I have no idea what has happened to change his entire demeanor, but I definitely don’t like it.
Finally, he stops directly in front of me, tosses the letters on the desk, and takes my face in his hands. “Listen, I have something I need to go do. Can I leave Max here for a little bit?”
“Of course, but what—” I start, but am cut off.
“I promise to explain when I get back. I just need to run and talk to someone real fast, okay?”
His eyes are pleading, and even though I want to ask more questions, I’m not sure I’d get the answers right now. There’s something clearly going on, and Jensen needs to figure it out. Alone. So as hard as it is to not demand he stay and talk to me, I simply nod my head. “Okay, we’ll be here when you get back.”
Jensen gives me a smile that melts my heart and pulls me to his lips. They’re urgent, hungry even, but don’t stay nearly as long as I’d like them to. “Thank you,” he urges, placing a second kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be back shortly and then I’ll explain.”
I feel the loss of his skin as he lets me go and heads over to his son. “I have to run an errand, okay, Buddy? You’re going to stay here with Kate and finish your painting,” he says to Max.
“Okay!” Max agrees easily, barely taking his eyes off his work of art.
Jensen ruffles his son’s hair before turning and heading to the doorway. When he reaches it, he stops and glances my way. “I love you.”
The shock of his words causes my mouth to fall open and my heart to try to pound its way out of my chest. Before I can even think about replying (and heaven knows I want to say it back), he disappears, the sound of the front door closing heard a few seconds later.
“Well, there’s nothing like a love declaration to get the ol’ vagina juices pumping.”
The words shock me out of my stupor. I glance over at the elderly woman, who wears a mischievous grin on her wrinkled face. “You probably shouldn’t say vagina in front of the four-year-old,” I whisper, turning to head back to my pile of papers.
I grab what’s left of the stack and start flipping through it. Most of the records are old and don’t need to be kept, and I end up just tossing them in the shred pile. I love you. His words repeat over and over in my mind, and I can’t help but grin widely.
“That’s the smile of a woman in love,” Emma says, shuffling over to stand beside me.
Glancing her way, I reply, “I love him too.”
