Finding Him (Covet 2)

“Dirty?” He dipped his finger in the donut again and then winked. “Just showered. If anything . . .” He eyed me up and down. “Let me get dressed and then we can get started.”

“Yeah, dressing is good,” I said like a complete idiot.

He just looked at me like he was trying to figure out whether I was day drinking, fantastic.

“I’ll take this with me.” He picked up the maple bar and left me alone in the kitchen, still holding the box and wondering why it felt so hot in his apartment and how I was going to survive every day in his presence.

And then I thought about the computer in my bag.

And the name on the flashing cursor.

Noah.

Usually when I thought of his name, guilt slammed into me; either that or utter desolation and sadness. Except in that moment, with donuts in my hands, in Julian Tennyson’s apartment, all I could conjure up was one fleeting thought. That I would have liked them to meet.

Which made no sense at all since Julian was convinced that Noah would have hated him, but would he have?

Did it matter?

“Are you going to hold that box all day?” Julian came walking back into the room, dressed in something so casual I almost dropped the box.

“Are you wearing sweats?” I asked in a shocked voice.

He looked down at a pair of Under Armour pants and a vintage T-shirt, then gave me a funny look. “Are you gonna make it?”

“What? Me?” I quickly put the box down on the counter and took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything so normal . . .”

“Well, strap in.” He grinned. “I’m not going to wear a suit to sit on my own couch. Plus, I figure if we’re going to hit your deadline we need to put in some hellish long days. I’m not doing that with a tie wrapped around my neck.”

“Good point.” I drew in a shaky breath and reached for my computer bag.

I didn’t realize I was shaking until Julian’s hand was on mine, and then he was squeezing it and turning me around to face him. “You’re jumpy, what’s wrong?”

He saw too much.

I knew it the day I met him.

He assessed.

He looked into a person.

He measured said person.

He decided if that person was worth his time.

And I was.

Worth his very valuable time.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I lied. “It’s probably low blood sugar. I need one of these.” I snatched a donut. “And I’m stressed about this book. I just—I need to finish it and put it behind me.”

“Understandable.” His eyes searched mine. “Why don’t you chew and talk, and I’ll type out what you want me to type out?”

“Yeah, that’s good.” I took another bite and flinched when he leaned over and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. “Crumb?”

“No, I just needed an excuse to touch your mouth.” He grinned. “Yeah, there was a crumb.”

I liked the first answer better.

It was going to be a long day.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

KEATON

“What do you mean the treatment isn’t working?” I asked the doctor for the third time, even though I understood the words he was saying to me. I couldn’t seem to let them sink into my consciousness.

Not working.

By themselves, they’re boring words, hardly worth noticing.

But when a doctor says them to you.

About someone you love.

They suddenly have the power to strip every single ounce of energy and strength in your body and replace it with fear and disbelief.

Dr. Mark was in his midseventies and was one of the best oncologists in the tri-state area. If he said it wasn’t working.

It wasn’t freaking working.

Next to me, Noah didn’t even tense. Already he was starting to lose his hair. The treatment was extremely aggressive. We were prepared for the worst, the worst being having to stay in the hospital longer than we originally planned. They needed him hooked up every six hours, so it just made sense to stay.

I made his bed my own.

We read a lot.

And binge-watched TV like it was our job.

Dr. Mark ran a hand through his gray hair and gave Noah a look I didn’t recognize, one that had Noah squeezing my hand like I was the one that needed comfort.

“The hospital received a generous donation a few months ago. We were able to open up one of the old hospital wings and let family stay there. There’s a kitchen near the old nurses’ station, snacks, food, and each room has a bed in it that’s better than the one Noah’s in now. It might make things more comfortable while we decide what to do next.”

I exhaled. “Actually, that would be great. I’m sure Noah’s tired of this room.”

“Preach,” Noah joked with a rasp in his voice. “No offense, but this room sucks. I would do anything for a bigger TV and a bed that had pillows that weren’t flat.”