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“You did.”
She sipped her coffee. It burned her lips because it was still a little too warm in the insulated mug.
“I didn’t know you’d been married.” The words fell out before she could stop them. She couldn’t make herself apologize for prying or say he didn’t have to talk about it. Even though she wanted to fill the silence that was hanging between them, she couldn’t say anything.
Finally, Daniel spoke. “I was married for seven months. Her name was Lana. She was...” He smiled a sad smile and shook his head. “She was electricity and sunshine and everything that was good. She kind of reminded me of you in a way.”
His admission took away Elle’s breath.
“You said it was an aneurysm?”
Daniel nodded. “Yep.”
“How long has it been?”
“Five years.”
“Daniel, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It won’t bring her back. I mean, it sucks. All the way around. You love someone and in the blink of an eye they’re gone.”
His eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he didn’t look away from her.
Never had a man been so open and vulnerable with her.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t feel like she had the right. She’d never lost anyone she loved—not to death. The thought sent a cold shiver coursing through her.
Then Daniel did the most unexpected thing. He put his arm around her and held her close. It was almost as if he was comforting her, when it should’ve been the other way around.
“So, there you go. Lana’s one of the reasons I’ve changed. I’ve learned that life doesn’t give you many second chances. When it does, you better take it.”
He bent down and brushed her lips with a featherlight kiss. Then he said, “Now, it’s your turn. Tell me about your job. Why is it not fun anymore?”
“Oh. It seems so trivial after what you told me. So, no. Never mind.”
“A deal is a deal. In fact, I told you two things I don’t like to talk about. Your turn.”
“Okay.” She shrugged. His arm was still around her and she realized there was nowhere on earth she’d rather be. “The reason it’s not fun is I don’t have a job teaching art anymore. Thanks to lack of funding, they had to eliminate my position. The powers that be place art low on the priority list. So, there you go. Not fun.”
“Does that mean you’re staying in Savannah?”
“I don’t know. Uh, probably not. I mean, my life is in Atlanta. But I may have to go wherever I can find a job.”
“If it makes a difference,” he said, leaning closer and toying with a strand of her hair, “I’d love for you to stay. Will you give me a chance to try and talk you into moving back?”
His breath was hot on her temple. And her breath hitched as she sighed at the closeness.
Oh, how she wanted him in her personal space.
Then his lips skimmed her cheek, and Elle tilted back her head, looking up at him. His eyes were hungry and hooded, and the next thing she knew, his lips were brushing hers again.
This time, the kiss started slow and soft, then ignited into greedy hunger that made her part her lips and lean in to deepen it. Her stomach swooped and she fisted her hands into the back of his shirt, clinging to him as if her next breath depended on him.
They’d come so far—stolen kisses. Unfaithful grooms. Ruined weddings. Injured brothers. The only thing that mattered now was how well their bodies fitted together as he pulled her tighter and how well he seemed to be staking his claim, making a very convincing argument for her to stay. Maybe the old saying was true—when one door closes, another one opens. A better one. Because what could be better than these newly claimed feelings that were pouring out in this wordless confession?
He tasted like coffee and cinnamon and something exotic that held that familiar hint of yesteryear, only it was better now because it held the untainted promise of the future.
Oh, boy, she was in trouble.
* * *
True to her word, Elle went to the hospital with him every day.
When they arrived on the fourth day after Aidan’s accident, a nurse greeted them with good news. The swelling in Aidan’s brain was starting to go down. It didn’t mean he was completely out of the woods, but it did indicate that he was improving. Outwardly he didn’t look much different—same bruises and bandages, but Aidan’s doctors and nurses were hopeful.
