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“Thanks,” I say. “I’ll go grab Bailey.”
“Are you okay?”
No, I want to say.I hate the thought of Colin weaseling his way into Bailey’s heart. I worry that he’ll walk away from her the way he did me. I’m terrified of the feelings I have for you. I feel like a piece of driftwood tossed around by an angry ocean. I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.
Instead, I just lift my gaze and meet his eyes, unsure what he sees when he looks at me. “I’m fine, Des. Just tired.”
He nods. “Call me if you need anything.”
My throat is tight, and I’m not sure why. I wish Des were sleeping beside me tonight. I wish I had the warmth and weight of his arm around my waist to remind me that I don’t have to do this on my own. I wish Bailey had refused to meet her father, so I could tell Colin to go to hell.
On stiff legs, I walk to Bailey’s car door and open it up.
She blinks, rubbing her eyes, and lets out a sleepy noise of complaint. “Are we home?”
“Yes, honey.” I help her out of the car while Des carries our bags to the door. The independent part of me wants to take the bags from his hands and send him on his way, but I was telling the truth when I said I was tired, so I let him follow us through the barbershop to the back door.
Bailey stumbles through, kicking her shoes off, and Des deposits the bags in the living room. We glance at the closing bathroom door, then at each other.
Before I can stop him, Des has my jaw in his hand and is kissing me. It’s a soft kiss, tender, and it makes me feel wobbly inside. Then he pulls away and says, “You’ll call me if you need anything.” It sounds like an order, but it makes me feel warm.
I nod. “I will.”
He hesitates, dark eyes flicking between mine. “I’ll miss you tonight.”
Despite my best defenses, my insides melt like warm candle wax. I nod, throat tight. “Me too.”
One more kiss, and Des pulls away. I follow him down the hallway and through the barbershop, locking up behind him. When he disappears into his car, I scurry back to the safety of my apartment and lock myself inside.
Bailey’s already in bed, asleep. I comb her hair off her face and kiss her temple, then tiptoe to the bathroom to get myself ready.
A few minutes later, I climb into my bed, shivering. The sheets are cold and my pillow is lumpy, and I miss Des.
29
CANDICE
The Four CupsCafé breathed life back into me. I love coming into the café, seeing all our customers chatting and eating and drinking, knowing that this little hub is my own creation.
While I rearrange the pastries in our display fridge, I hear familiar footsteps approach the register. There’s a pause, then, “What’s a guy gotta do to get an everything bagel with cream cheese around here?”
Smiling, I stand to see my husband, Blake, leaning against the counter with that dashing smile on his face.
I laugh at his order and tap the computer to type it in. “Will that be all, sir?” I ask, voice angelic. We’re both playing the part, remembering those weeks when I resisted his advances, when he groveled like only he can, coming in every day for his coffee and bagel to remind me he wasn’t going anywhere.
His eyes sparkle. “I’ll take a kiss on the side.”
Laughing, I oblige. I lean across the counter and kiss him, enduring the wolf-whistles and hoots from the few patrons dotted around the café. Blushing, I pull away while one of our employees hands him his bagel. Blake winks at me, then sits down at one of the two-seater tables tucked into the corner. Strange. Usually, he orders and leaves; it’s rare that he sits in the café for an extended period of time. Not that I’m complaining.
When my first husband passed away, I never thought my life could be complete again. I was weighed down by grief and guilt, thinking the happy years in my life were long over.
I was wrong.
Then the bell above the café door rings, and my daughter walks in. I gasp, hands flying up to clutch my heart.
Allie looks radiant. Her curly blond hair is tied up in a messy top bun, her smile wide and brilliant. She spreads her arms just in time for me to rush around the counter and crash into her. “You’re here!” I exclaim. “Why are you here? I thought you had exams!”
“Blake flew me out,” she says, hugging me tight. “He said you were all sad on Thanksgiving without me.” She pulls away, watching me with familiar blue eyes. “You look really good, Mom.”
