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“Hello?” she calls.
“It’s me.”
“Oh.”
Oh. So much is contained within that one word. I long for the days when I could blunt my feelings. I long for the days when everything didn’t feel so close—Mom, Rosa,Leo. I can’t lock it all away anymore.
“I was wondering if you wanted to… hang out?”
That’s lame and weak.Hang out, when she’s seen her dad shot justafterlearning her whole life was built on a lie.
“Not right now,” she says.
“What are you doing in there?”
I’m being way too clingy, but I can’t help myself. It’s better than leaving.
“Nothing,” she replies. “Just sitting. Thinking.”
“Maybe we could think together.”
“I said I’mfine.”
I sigh when she snaps at me. She saw it in the car. She heard the desperation that flooded me when I thought the future father of my children was going to die. She knows something broke in me when I saw the bullet hit her dad, my kidnapper. The man I was never supposed to look at, let alone kiss, let alone need so badly my soul aches.
“Okay, see you later.”
I walk into the garden, gasping, when I see Leo standing amidst a few men. They’re clapping him on the back, telling him they’re happy he’s okay. He looks through the crowd and sees me. He smiles tightly. I do my best to return it, but the bluntness of Rosa is way too fresh in my mind. Yet my heart is whelming with joy at seeing him alive, capable of smiling, relaxing, and beinghim. He nods up to the second floor of the estate. I get the message and nod in return.
Returning to the house, I walk up the stairs, go to my bedroom, and wait. The window looks out onto the back lawn, letting me watch as Leo makes some excuse and walks into the house. When he pushes the door open, I don’t think. My feet carry me to him quickly, arms wrapping around him. I squeeze him close and bury my face in his chest, breathing in his scent, savoring his closeness.
“I thought you were dead.”
He strokes my head gently. “I can’t leave you yet.”
My body tingles as I think about last night and what we did—what wealmostdid. I know he’s implying he can’t leave me until we’ve created a life together.
“How’s Rosa doing?” Leo asks.
The moment shatters. I turn away and return to the window.
“Emma?”
“It’s not good,” I reply, finding it difficult to look at him when we discuss this.
It’s not fair to blame him. It’s unfair to behave like it’shisfault when it’sours. If he never came to me that night, never woke me with so much steaminess, maybe I could pretend I didn’t feel this way. If he hadn’t told me he wanted everything I’d dreamed of, Imightbe able to live in denial. Suddenly, I hunger for the West Coast, headphones, and accountancy books—the simplicity of a cold, emotionless life.
“I think she knows. We saw you get shot. I reacted not like you’re just some guy I know, my best friend’s dad. I reacted like you were the love of my life.”
His footsteps get closer. Then I feel his heat behind me, but I still don’t turn. He doesn’t embrace me, and I wonder if it’s because that would mean walking into the full light of the window and possibly being seen by one of his men.
I sense him waiting for me to move toward him, sink into his embrace out of view of his men. Nobody can see us because we’re not in a real relationship. We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend. We’re not clearly defined in any way. We’ve got destiny on our side, hunger, but nothing else, not all the stuff other couples take for granted.
“Emma,” he says huskily.
“Have you spoken to Rosa?” I ask, turning to him. “You asked how she was doing. Does that mean you haven’t spoken to her?”
“I tried calling her on the way here, but once she heard I was okay, she still didn’t want to talk.” He laughs gruffly. “You’d think getting shot would be enough to make her want a conversation, but apparently not.”
