Rhys wouldn’t cheat. Right?
And what I saw wasn’t cheating.
Yet, he didn’t tell me he was going to meet some gorgeous blond for lunch today.
You told your girlfriend that kind of thing, right?
Feeling sick, I slumped against the cold concrete wall. We’d never talked about the status of our relationship since that night at Fairchild’s lodge. Obviously, somewhere down the line I’d started to think we were more than we were.
But that didn’t seem right either.
Even Rhys had admitted there was a connection.
Oh God.
Maybe he’d realized that connection was just physical after all and the blond was more his speed.
If that was true, I had to believe Rhys would be up-front with me about it, right? That’s the kind of guy he was.
Or so I’d thought.
My phone suddenly beeped in my purse. Fingers trembling, I fumbled for it.
HotHarley: Hey, Tink. Do you want to meet up tonight?
I stared at Rhys’s text, confused as hell. Was he going to meet me to tell me it was over? Or would we meet and he wouldn’t say a word about the gorgeous blond?
Whatever was going on with us, I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him. I texted back:
ParkerB: Sorry. They need me to stay late at the office.
I’d been investing myself emotionally into this relationship, but analyzing the last few weeks, I realized I had been doing that while Rhys had been locking me out emotionally, even if he was not pushing me away physically.
I was going to get my heart broken.
I knew it.
The only way to soften that blow was to put some distance between me and Rhys Morgan.
Tears burning my eyes, I stayed hidden in the corner of the parking lot until I was sure I could return to the office without crying.
Rhys
“Thanks for inviting me over for dinner. This lasagna is delicious. Did you make this, Rosie?”
“It’s Rose.” Big eyes, the exact light brown of Jake’s, stared back at me with a clear warning. I had to grin. God, she had his sass too.
“Apologies, Rose.”
She gave a small sniff as if to reluctantly accept my gaffe and then tipped her tiny chin in acknowledgment. Jake had done that exact chin tip countless times. For a moment, it hurt to breathe. It hurt so bad, my eyes burned.
How could a person be missed so much, it was painful? I didn’t like it. Didn’t want this pain. It never fully went away. Some days it would dull, but then moments like this brought it all back. Part of me wanted to jump up and get my ass out of the house.
I kept said ass in the chair and ate the damn lasagna.
“So,” I prompted when I could speak without sobbing like a baby, “did you make it?”
Rose’s nose wrinkled. “Mommy did. I don’t like cooking.”
Given that she was five going on fifty, I had to admire her bluntness and gave her a chin tip of my own.
From the other side of the small kitchen table, Marcy laughed, genuine love and happiness lighting her eyes. “She doesn’t like cleaning her room or doing her homework either. Big surprise, huh?”
“She has homework?” I blinked in shock. “She’s frick—uh, she’s five.”
“I’m not a baby,” Rose pointed out in that very Jake-like “screw you” way. “Big kids have homework.”
Marcy grinned, toying with her wineglass stem. “They have worksheets for math and reading assignments.”
Personally, I was happy my kindergarten class focused on Reading Rainbow and sharing time. I told them so and got a scowl from Rose and a laugh from Marcy.
“Amen to that,” Marcy said, raising her glass.
I clinked mine to hers, and though I still felt the pain of Jake’s absence, there was something good about being here. They were a family, these two precious females. There was love in this house that Jake and I had restored years ago. Contentment.
Coming here had been the right thing to do; I’d been away for too long. I had wanted to ask Parker to join us, but she’d been distant and busy when I’d texted.
“What’s that frown about?” Marcy’s question pulled me back to the present.
“Was I frowning?” I reached for the bowl of salad. Since training had resumed, I was hungry all the time. All the freaking time. Hungry for food. Hungry for sex.
No. Don’t think about sex at the table. Bad idea, Morgan.
Marcy tipped her head and examined me. “Well, I’d have called it pouting, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that.”
I laughed. “No, I wouldn’t have.” With a sigh, I sat back. “I’ve got a lot on my mind is all.” I glanced at Rose, then shut my mouth.
Marcy followed the action. “Rose,” she said to her child, who was basically stabbing her food with a fork but no longer eating. “If you’re done, you can put your plate in the sink and go play.”