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“You can’t possibly know.”
“Actually, I can. I had a little girl. Her name was Zaira. She was only three when I lost her. I was a mess. I was so lost.” She pauses. “Until I found that I can love other children and give back in my own way.”
“You’re too young—”
“No, I’m not. What happened to you and me was terrible. But do you know what I remember?”
“What?”
“The look on Zaira’s face the first time she ate ice cream, or the way she snuggled close at night when we looked up, mesmerized by the stars. She loved life, and I would be dishonoring her memory by doing anything less than enjoying every moment of it,” she says. “Sometimes, it still hurts, but eventually, the good memories overshadow the bad, and we’ll always have those.”
“I’ve lost my wife too. Especially after this.” He sighs.
“You don’t know that for sure. Even if that’s true, there’s no reason for you to give up. Joshua wouldn’t want you to,” Gwendolyn insists.
“I’ll end up in prison.”
“I’ll speak on your behalf. This is an exceptional circumstance. You’ve never done anything like this before, right?”
He scoffs. “Hell, no. I’m afraid of guns.”
She giggles. The woman is freaking giggling. “Could have fooled me.”
“It’s not loaded.” Malcolm starts to laugh. “God, I’m an idiot.”
“No. You’re in pain. Emotional pain is a lot harder to subdue than physical,” she says. I push the door open to find Gwendolyn patting his hand. “Let’s leave the gun here and walk out together.”
“Yeah,” he agrees.
They both turn to find me, Damian, and Alex standing there.
“Please don’t hurt him,” Gwendolyn advocates on his behalf. “There’s more to it than you know.”
I look into her pleading eyes. Her lower lip is quivering. Christ, she does things to me that shouldn’t be happening.
“Alex will go easy,” I state firmly, tearing my eyes away from her. Alex reaches out; Malcolm comes along quietly. As he passes by, I tell him, “Your wife is worried sick about you.”
“Eliza is here?” he asks in surprise.
I tell Alex, “Give him a couple of minutes with his wife before you take him in.”
Alex starts reading him his Miranda rights as he leads him out. Damian assesses the scene and walks out after him, leaving me alone with Gwendolyn.
She raises her hand, palm out, stopping me from speaking, and says, “Before you get all crazy, I want to point out that I did not ask Malcolm to come to the library and cause a scene. I cannot be held responsible for his actions, and I’ve had a very shitty day, so if you intend to berate me for this”—she twirls her hand around the room—“you can stop right now.” She ends by putting her hands on her hips and jutting out her chin. “It was not my choice to be a hostage. This is not my fault.”
TWO
I’m Scared
GWENDOLYN
That was a grand speech, but Caleb Thorne is looking at me like he’d like to throttle me. No matter how intense those wild green eyes are, he’s most definitely the handsomest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I have dreams about him. Disturbing dreams! Dreams that will never come true, and yet I keep hoping that one day, he’ll gaze upon me with desire. When I sleep, he comes to me, and I feel his hands roaming over my body in appreciation of my curves. I feel his lips on my neck, gliding up to my earlobe, and his teeth nipping at it. Then his husky voice rumbles in my ear, murmuring my name.
“Gwendolyn!” Yeah! Not like that. Softer. When he says my name sharply once more, I come out of my comatose state of happiness and return to his anger. “Where the hell did you go, babe?” he asks sharply.
Babe? He’s never called me that, but considering the tone he just used, I don’t read much into it.
