A Lover's Lament
“Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“You were engaged to Wyatt.” Okay, I wasn’t exactly expecting him to say that. He obviously got my email.
“Were. Past tense.”
“I’ve never been so fucking relieved to read something in my life.”
“Yeah?”
“You have no idea,” he says. “And Katie?”
“Yeah?”
“Email or phone?” he asks.
“Is this a trick question?” A slow grin spreads across my face.
“You’re supposed to just answer,” he says, laughing. “You aren’t supposed to answer a question with another question. Now answer the question, Katie.” His commanding tone causes shivers to run down my spine. I forgot how alpha he could be.
“Phone.” I didn’t have to think twice. Our words may have reconnected us, but hearing his voice only confirms the one thing I’ve suspected all along: what we had never went away.
“Good answer.”
My cheeks are hurting—seriously, they’re cramping up—and if I don’t stop smiling soon, I’m afraid I’ll have this goofy-as-hell grin for the rest of my life. But it feels good … really good. “What would you have done if I said email?”
“I would’ve hung up and emailed you.” He chuckles. “You’ve never been one to ramble, so is it because you’re nervous … or is it just me?”
My racing heart kicks up a few extra notches because it’s totally him. I’m tempted to tell him that I do ramble and he just doesn’t remember correctly, because telling Devin that it’s him is the equivalent of slicing my chest open and laying my heart on the line—and quite frankly, my heart has been through enough lately. But as tempting as it is, I know that I have to tell him the truth. We’ve come too far and built too much in such a short amount of time, and whatever this is, I don’t want to jeopardize it … or lose it.
“It’s you.” Leaning forward, I prop my hands on the counter. Holy shit, that was terrifying.
Devin blows out a slow breath but doesn’t respond. Oh shit. My stomach tightens as I try to come up with a way to dig myself out of this. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“I like your answer.”
“You do?” That knot in my stomach unravels, taking with it the urge to throw up.
“More than I probably should,” he says with a sigh. The line crackles, going completely silent for a few beats, and I’m worried that the call was somehow dropped when I hear him clear his voice. “I have a confession to make.”
“Okay …” My nerves are running at high speed, so I grab a pot from beneath the sink. Maybe if I keep myself busy, I’ll be more relaxed.
“Shit,” he says, laughing. “I really don’t want you to think I’m some sort of stalker …”
“Spit it out, Sergeant,” I quip.
“I stalked your MySpace page,” he breathes, quickly rushing to explain. “My friend Navas, that fucker, had me convinced that I needed to see you again, to see what you’ve been up to. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to know what you looked like after all these years, but … are you laughing at me?”
“S-sorry.” I gasp to catch my breath. “I’m laughing because—” My abs constrict, tears of happiness—and quite possibly relief—running down my face. I suck in a breath. “I totally stalked you too.”
“You did?” He sounds surprised, which makes me laugh harder.
“Yes, I had to. Maggie made me!” Filling the pot up with water, I place it on the stove, setting the temperature to high.
“She made you?” he teases. “How did she make you?”
“She’s evil, Devin. She’s a little devil, and she’s enamored with you and your chiseled abs.”