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She studied his clenched jaw, tracing it up to those green eyes, so vibrant even in the night. Laying her cheek on her knees again, she let out a small laugh. “That doesn’t seem very monk-like.”
His eyes slid back to hers, and her breath caught at the slight quirk in his smile. “Good of you to notice.” His smile fell, and it was as if the clouds shifted within his eyes. “My life falling apart that I mentioned?” He waited for her to nod. “My wife died.”
Celia didn’t know what to say. He looked so lost, as if he was experiencing it all over again. She doubted she’d ever cared about anyone enough to feel that way. Even Malcolm she kept at a certain distance. Instead of saying anything, she let the silence extend.
“I loved her very much. Still do,” Trenton said. He leaned back, the shadows finding his face again. “So I don’t date. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Not when my thoughts are of her.” He sighed. “The guys like to tease me about it, but I know it’s not to be mean. Them wanting me to move on is understandable.”
Celia tilted her head against the back of the chair, taking in the slow dripping of the rain from the balcony above. “Some things you can’t ever leave behind.” Her fingers slid around her wrists, remembering the pain that had been there. Every look in the mirror also reminded her. She looked just like her mother.
“I’m sorry. I never meant to make this about me.” Trenton cleared his throat. “While you’re hurting right now, I’m sure that bastard of a fiancé will be in your past soon enough. Give yourself time.”
She bit her lip. With him being so open, it made it hard to let him compare her hurt to his. Not about the fiancé she couldn’t care less about. She closed her eyes, taking a breath. “It’s not my breakup that kept me awake.”
The rain continued to fall, a sudden breeze letting some of the dampness land on her feet, where they were perched on the edge of the chair.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, so softly that his voice seemed part of the wind.
Celia shook her head. She could. The various counselors had shown her that, but she found it easier not to open that dam.
“All right,” he said.
The silence that grew between them didn’t feel awkward or strained. It just was, similar to how the rain fell.
With her eyes closed, the smell of the weather strengthened. With it was a hint of Trenton’s cologne, but it wasn’t unpleasant. When the breeze brushed against her cheek, the warmth was soothing. She wasn’t sure how much time passed, but her eyes felt too heavy to open. Her breathing slowed, a steady movement of her chest. She could even hear her heartbeat, a dull steadiness that blended with the night.
When he slid his arms around her, she wasn’t fully asleep. She normally didn’t like to be touched, but Trenton had somehow become part of the scenery. She leaned against his chest as he carried her to the guest room and placed her on the bed there. He even tucked her under the covers.
“Good night, Celia,” he whispered.
Before she could return the sentiment, her mind slid off into oblivion.
Chapter 8
Therainfromthenight before had left the park drenched. Trenton adapted his pace to account for any slickness on the sidewalk, though the concreted had absorbed most of the moisture. He’d felt sleepier that morning when he woke for his normal jogging ritual due to his late-night chat with his new housemate.
He shouldn’t have brought up Emily.
His teeth clenched as he sucked in his next breath, nearly choking on it. The lack of air let him concentrate again, slowing into a steady in and out as he increased his pace. He didn’t understand the people that needed music to jog. The whole point was to find his body’s rhythm.
Trenton’s thoughts had slowed when he inserted the key on his wristband into the lock of the condo’s front door. Inside, a cabinet clanged shut, followed by another, and then there was the rattle of a drawer opening.
Toeing off his running shoes, he made his way into the kitchen to find a bleary-eyed Celia staring down in his odds-and-ends drawer.
She looked up, blinking at him. “Coffee?”
He winced at the word. “Why don’t you go sit? I’ll make you something.”
She hesitated, then shuffled over to lean on the opposite counter.
Trenton crossed to the drawer, shaking his head as he slid it shut again. “You really thought the coffee would be in there?”
Celia shrugged, her lips dragging down into a pout. “I checked all the cabinets.”
He turned to hide his smile. She was a little kid at times. He’d thought the same the night before when he’d lifted her and she’d cuddled against his chest. She’d felt so petite in his arms.
He turned over ways to break it to her that he didn’t keep coffee in the condo. Relying on caffeine wasn’t healthy.
“Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll have something for you when you come out?”
