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“You don’t have to tell me,” I said softly.
John shook his head, his fingertips still dancing over my skin. “You would think after so many years it wouldn’t hurt so much to talk about, but it does. Emily was my whole life back then. If she had asked me to get her a shooting star, I would have damned well found a way to do so because she was my everything. When she passed, I found myself without a purpose. Like a ship just drifting away on an endless sea. I didn’t know what to do with myself.
“I mean, I knew what to do, I had two girls who counted on me, but every day felt harder than the last one. It was hard to get up from bed sometimes and even harder to return at night…” His words were getting slow and slurry, and I knew he was about to fall asleep again.
And I was right, but not before he murmured. “…until you.”
I didn’t sleep a wink. How could I, after he had admitted something I knew he had not meant to say? Emotions I’d never anticipated were creeping into this arrangement faster than expected, but I doubted there was any way to slow it down. It was as if it were a train that had lost its brakes and was speeding off the rails to a cliffside.
I did not want to know what that end would be.
By morning light, I slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and fished for my clothes. I had my underwear on and his t-shirt before I went to use the bathroom, washed up, and made breakfast.
I had the coffee on and went about scrambling eggs for a loaded frittata. While peeling the potatoes, I paused and sucked in a breath. John’s life was still hitting me hard. I know I didn’t have it all that well, but chopping wood for light at night and cooking, much less having to go hunt or fish for their daily meals. I wanted to cry.
A hand pulled the knife from mine and set it aside before John turned me and held my face, his eyes searching mine. “You’re upset.”
I could not lie. I had no reason to. “Yes, and it’s because of what happened to you.”
John easily lifted me to sit on the counter and slipped between the V of my feet. “Listen to me, Rayna, I’m touched that my former life bothers you so much, but you don’t have anything to cry about. I made it past that time. I’m better now.”
Shaking my head, I replied, “I’m upset for the child you once were. And if you were being honest with yourself, some part of that kid that had to walk three miles to go to school and hunt fish on Saturday morning never really left you.”
“You’re right. That kid has not left me, and because of him, I am the man I am today. That kid wanted better, and I proved him right. There is nothing to cry about, baby.”
He had called me that a few times, but now I felt like one. Sighing, I reached around his bare chest and hugged him while resting my forehead on his collarbone. We stayed like that until the tantalizing scent of coffee grew heavy.
“I’ve never smelled that blend of coffee before,” he said, pulling away. “What is it?”
“Jamaican Blue,” I replied. “Got it for a steal a couple months ago. I only use it sparingly, but I thought it would be good for you to try.”
He poured a cup, and I watched his back muscles flex while adding a single sugar, then took a sip. His brows shot up. “Holy…this is good.”
I hopped down from the counter and went back to peeling the potatoes. “Glad you like it. Now, I know your cook may make a mean breakfast, and you’ve probably been spoiled with recipes going back a few decades, but humor me…again.”
* * *
I was puttering around the house later that evening, unsure what to do with myself, when my phone lit up with a text from John.
What are your bank details?
Huh? Why did he want to know that? So I asked him, and he replied,I want to cover your time with Sam this weekend. Whatever you choose to do, let her know it's fine to be girlie at times, too.
Oh. That was what he meant. After a quick check with my online banking app, I sent him the info and made a pot of tea. My phone pinged, and I opened my app—only to nearly faint. I had to grab the counter while I reread the figure that had popped up.
“Five thousand dollars,” I gaped. “He sent me five…thousand…dollars.”
I’d pictured about five hundred bucks or less in the back of my mind, but he had wired me more money than I could bank in four months. I called him back, and the moment he answered, I said, “Did you make a mistake, John? We’re not flying out to Cabo. This is just some shopping and little face care.”
He laughed. “I supposed I had slipped with the extra zero—” we both knew he was lying. “—but it doesn’t matter. It’s yours.”
Something twisted inside me, and oddly, I felt uneasy. Who would ever give someone five thousand dollars on a whim? I knew he was rich, but…this felt wrong, like some kind of payoff or something. Like I was a sugar baby, and he was my Daddy.
“No, John, I’m not keeping it,” I replied. “Five hundred is more than enough. Go back and retract the transaction.”
He sighed. “You won’t let this slide, will you?”
“What was your first clue?” I replied sweetly.
