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“Because I want you to know the truth. I want to be open and honest with you.”
Even as I say the words, I know the enormity of the meaning behind them. And I hope that she knows it too.
“I appreciate your honesty,” her eyes meet mine as she takes a sip of coffee. A shadow crosses her face and she looks down. “Honesty doesn’t come easily these days.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“Does Ryan know the truth?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. But as soon as he is old enough, I will have a talk with him.”
“That would be best. And I’m sure he won’t love you any less.”
“I certainly hope so. I’m trying to honor their memory by raising him as best as I can. I’ll do anything for that child.”
She looks at me steadily. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
She digs into her bag and withdraws an envelope. “I was hoping for an opportunity to share this with you. I guess there’s no time like the present.”
She passes it to me and I frown. “Dr. Shawn Harrison. Child Psychologist? What is this Summer?”
Chapter Nineteen
Summer
Outwardly,Iamapicture of calm, confident ease. But inside, I am a bundle of nerves as I watch Lucan open the envelope. I feel as though things are moving in slow motion.
“Two orders of scrambled eggs, one with hash browns and another with pancakes. Would you like a refill on those coffees?” The waitress places the plates in front of us and I cannot help but feel a last minute reprieve. I consider snatching back the envelope and telling Lucan I made a mistake with what I wanted to give him. But he places it on the ledge near him and out of my reach.
“Don’t let it get cold.” Lucan gestures to my plate with his fork. “Dig in.”
I take a forkful, and before I know it, my plate is half empty. “This is really good.”
He smiles and nods. “Don’t I know it.” He takes a sip of coffee and wipes his mouth. “I love your collection.”
“I beg your pardon?” I bite into a crunchy hash brown and offer him one.
“Your bookshelf. You have quite a spread across genres and fields. But if memory serves me correctly, your favorite is Elizabethan, right?”
“Right.”
“We should compare sometime. When you come in on Monday, I’ll show you the library.”
“Oh. I’ve seen your books.”
He looks at me and laughs. “I doubt it. You’ve never been to that part of the house.”
“But your book shelves—”
“That’s my office. But you’re not the first to make that mistake. My library is easily as big as this restaurant. Floor to ceiling shelves. I even have a Dewey decimal system cabinet that I picked up in an antique store.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “I bet I have titles that will make you wet your literary panties. Figuratively, of course.”
I smile. “Why not literally?”
“I prefer to do that myself. No book will take my place.” He laughs as my cheeks go red.
He leans across and kisses me softly. Then he leans back in his chair and reaches for the envelope. My heart thuds loudly and I wonder if I am the only one hearing it.
