Make It Sweet

I didn’t expect it. But the second she did it, my body reacted with a full shudder, my heart kicking against the cage of my ribs. I cupped her slim forearms, rubbing her silky skin, needing that contact.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said.

I turned then, pulling her close. “I don’t want to either.”

We stood quietly, hugging in the kitchen that would soon be hers. I rested my cheek on her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, soaking up the warmth of her body. But too soon, Emma pulled away and tilted her head back. Her indigo gaze moved over my face.

“If you play for your old team, that means you’re going back to DC.”

The truth rippled out like a stone thrown into a pond. Again, she’d voiced something I hadn’t wanted to. But it was out now. I let my arms slide from her, when all I wanted to do was hold tighter. “Nothing’s set. This is just a tentative trial, but yes, if I play . . . DC is where I’d be based, but I’ll travel all over.”

“I know the drill.” Her smile was wry and forced. “I’ll be busy as well. Production starts soon. In fact, I have my first meeting next week. You know, to go run through some ideas, meet the cast, that sort of thing.”

She stepped away, wandering around the kitchen. “This place needs a good farm table. Something like Amalie has in hers. Maybe a hanging rack for copper pots and pans over the island.”

Emma babbling was not a good sign. A lump formed in my chest, growing in size as she talked about what she wanted to do to this place.

“The master bedroom has a partially enclosed balcony that overlooks the pool . . .” Her voice trailed off as she frowned. And I knew she was thinking about the balcony in her little house at Rosemont and the night she’d watched me swim naked.

Sorrow swamped me. This felt like a death. The end of us. I wanted to stop it. I could. All I had to do was say the right words. But they’d be a lie. I had to try, or I would forever be wondering if I had made the right decision. I’d never get out from under the loss. And I couldn’t take any more loss in my life. Not right now.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I blurted out.

Emma glanced over at me, an uncomfortable expression drawing the lines of her face tight.

I stared back, imploring her to understand. “I just found you. But I can’t walk away from this last chance. I want to feel like myself again, Em.”

Her shoulders slumped on a sigh. “I know you do.” She visibly swallowed. “I’m not going anywhere, Lucian.”

But I was. And we both knew that it would take me away from her all the same.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Emma

I wasn’t numb. Numb implied a lack of feeling, and I felt everywhere. Horrible cramping feeling. I hadn’t known it was possible to be so afraid for someone who was determined to ignore the danger they faced.

I glanced at Lucian’s hard profile as he concentrated on the finishing touches of the seared-salmon lunch he was prepping. Lemony-yellow sunlight shone through the kitchen window and glinted off his inky hair. He appeared calm but not content.

Couldn’t be helped. The ride back to Rosemont had been tense, each of us quiet and in our own corners. I’d hated every second of it. Somehow Lucian had become the central feature of my world, and it just wasn’t a happy place when we were on the outs.

Not that either of us apparently wanted to admit we were in a prolonged fight. I was too good at pretending pain away, and so was he.

An awful solution, given that my anxiety and hurt ratcheted up every moment I kept my mouth shut. Now, a day later, we were making lunch for his family. Rather, Lucian was making it, and I kept him company in my customary perch at the kitchen bench.

A silent sigh rippled through me. I had hoped he would love the kitchen of the house I wanted to buy. I had hoped he’d see the possibility of turning that house into a home for the two of us. Which was just plain stupidity on my part. It was too soon to expect him to live with me. Not that I had gathered up the courage to even ask. We never spoke of love or forever. Why should I have expected anything?

But I had. I had built castles once again, picturing us in that smaller version of Rosemont. A place all our own. And he’d crushed it with one swoop. He was leaving.

It might have been easier to take if it wasn’t for a career that could very likely kill him.