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“There’s no one around to see us acting like a couple.”
“If you don’t want me to touch you,” he says, “I’ll back off. Just say the word.”
“You know this can never last.”
“Nothing lasts forever.” I hate the sorrow in his tone. “Why can’t we enjoy this while we have it?”
“Enjoy what? A relationship that has no meaning or substance?”
He stops at the edge of the porch light, the shadows deep around us, the crickets and frogs singing at top volume. The night air is chilly and scented with fresh grass and wildflowers. I can just make out his features in the dim light as he faces me. “It means something to me,” he says. “Real or not, this is us supporting and caring for each other. That’s more substantive than most of the actual relationships I’ve ever had.”
I can’t think straight with him so close, but that’s lust, not something to build a future on. That his face is my favorite and I love spending time with him, that he truly is the best friend I’ve ever had, those might be reasons. “It’ll hurt too much when I leave if we let this be real.” My words are barely above a whisper. I don’t want to say them, but he deserves honesty.
“I never want to be the reason you hurt.” He slides his thumb along my jaw. “But can you honestly say the pain we’ll feel wouldn’t be worth it to have something real for a little while?”
I stare into his eyes, wishing I had the answers, wishing I could be a different person. “I don’t know.”
He presses a soft kiss to my temple, and it takes everything I am to fight the urge to wrap myself around him. “Let me know when you decide.”
Without another word, he walks up the porch steps and inside, leaving me alone in the dark.
Chapter Thirteen
Daisy
Getting to know authors has been a part of my job for as long as I’ve been in publishing. Never have I been so nervous as I am right now, cell phone to my ear, listening to it ring.
Gloria and I spent the morning going over our edits to Cynthia’s novel and discussing our differences of opinion. She agreed I should call and touch base with Cynthia, but I waited until after Gloria left for a dentist’s appointment to make the call.
“Hello?”
The woman who answers sounds younger than I expected. There’s no mention of a family in her records, but maybe this is Cynthia’s daughter? “Hello, I’d like to speak to Cynthia Bennett, please.”
“This is Cynthia. What can I do you for?”
Really? “This is Daisy Weston with Lovemore Publishing. I’m going to be your editor and I’m so excited to work with you.”
“Okay. Sounds good. What do you need from me?”
“I’d love to meet with you in person to go over the edits we have. I’d be happy to meet wherever is most convenient for you.”
“Sure. Whatever floats your boat. It’d be easiest for me if you came out to the house. I’m in the middle of writing my next book and I don’t like to leave the house until I’ve finished. It disrupts my flow.”
This is way too easy. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans. “I’d be happy to meet with you at your home. Unfortunately, I don’t have an address for you on file.”
“That’s ‘cause I don’t have an address.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it for a second, sure I’ve heard wrong. “You don’t have an address?”
“Nope. All’s I’ve got is the P.O. box. My house is kind of remote. Off the grid, so to speak.”
“So to speak.” Who is Cynthia Bennett?
She chuckles. “Okay, you got me. I’m literally off the grid. This your cell phone you’re calling me from?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I’ll send you GPS coordinates. You want to speak to me in person, knock on my door tomorrow after lunch.”
