“Okay, I won’t ask you anything else about that.”
The relief on her face kills me. Everyday it’s a struggle to not push her to tell me about her past, to not pry the information out of her. I know something happened to her, something so bad that it broke a part of her and I would do anything to fix it if I could.
“Thank you. What’s another question?”
I think over my list again, choosing a safer topic. Or, at least, what I hope is a safer topic. “What’s the deal with your apartment?”
“Huh?”
“When I came over the first time, you looked disgusted with it but it’s seriously the nicest place I’ve ever been in so what’s the deal?”
She sighs, twisting her wine glass in a circle. “That apartment is a product of my mother. She conned it out of husband number four along with a place for my sister and promptly left him with her chunk of his money. I wasn’t even allowed to decorate it and I hate pretty much everything in there.”
“Where do you want to live?”
She smiles, the kind of smile that makes my heart stop for a second, as her eyes glaze over. “I want a cottage right on the water. I want something I can make my own, kind of like I’m doing for Mercedes.”
“Mercedes?” I ask, arching a brow. The name sounds familiar and I can’t remember if I’m supposed to know who that is.
“My boss at the blog. She’s given me free reign to design this apartment she just bought as a rental and I’m going to write about the experience.”
Her face lights up when she talks about her work and I want to keep that look on her face as long as I can. “You sound like you really love it.”
“Yeah, I do. It kind of snuck up on me but I’m excited about where I’m heading in my career. I’ll be responsible for the entire design page and its contents.”
“Do you like it more than writing?”
She shakes her head. “No. Writing is my first love. I found it at a time in my life when I desperately needed it and I love the way words can move people, save people.”
“How so?”
“About a year ago, this woman came into the newspaper office where I used to work and told me this story about these corrupt cops. She said her life was in danger and no one at the precinct would help her. I felt moved to help her and I wrote an article about the whole thing even though it got me in trouble with my boss.”
My eyes widen and I sit forward. The story she’s telling sounds a whole lot like Emma’s. “Was her name Emma Harrington?”
“Yeah,” she exclaims, smiling. “How did you know?”
“The club helped her through that whole thing and Nix is Blaze’s son.”
She shakes her head. “Wow, small world. Why didn’t they ever tell me about the club helping them?”
“Dunno,” I say with a shrug.
“Well, how are they doing? I always wondered but I didn’t want to pry into their lives.”
“They’re great. Got married and had twins.”
She laughs, looking genuinely pleased to hear everything worked out for Emma and Nix. “That’s good.”
“I love the way your face lights up when you talk about your work,” I say, reaching across the table to grab her hand. A blush creeps up her cheeks and I grin.
“You know, before you came along, it had been a long time since anyone made me blush.”
Why the hell does that make me want to beat on my chest like a cave man? “Good.”
The waitress approaches our table with our food and sets it down in front of us before turning her gaze to me again. Jesus, can’t this girl take a hint?
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
Carly scoffs behind her.
“We’re good,” I reply, making sure I emphasize the “we’re” part. Her smile is a little forced as she nods and leaves. I take a sip of my beer and watch Carly as she glowers at the waitress’s back. Finally, she blinks and turns back to me.
“All right, any other questions?”
“Are you up for some more?” I ask and she’s quiet for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah, it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”
I laugh just as the waitress stops off with a bowl of dinner rolls. She places it in front of us and turns to me, completely ignoring Carly again.
“I’m so sorry. I totally forgot to bring these to y’all earlier. Can I get you anything else?”
“No, he’s good,” Carly snaps and I drop my head down to hide my smile. I fucking love that she’s getting territorial and at this point, this chick is just asking for it. The waitress leaves and I start laughing. “Not a word.”
“Okay, why did you think it would be hard to answer my questions?” I ask when my laughter fades, curious why it’s so hard for her to talk about her past. I’ve never met anyone as closed off as her before and sometimes I wonder how I’m ever going to break down those walls.
“Because I’ve never done this before, Chance. I haven’t let anyone see me for twelve very long years and then you just bulldozed into my life.”
“I’m not going to apologize for that,” I tell her, completely serious and she nods.
“I wasn’t going to ask you to.”
“Let’s see, what’s my next question?” I muse and she scoffs, giving me some more of that fire I love.
“Why don’t I get to ask you anything?”
“Baby, you’ve always been able to ask me anything. You just haven’t wanted to.”
She bites her lip. “You may be right about that.”
“Can I get back to my questions now?”
“No, I actually have a question for you.”
I nod. “Okay, shoot.”
“Will you tell me how you met Trixie and ended up married to her?”
Shit…
I take a deep breath and nod again. “Uh…yeah. Well, I met her at a strip club where she was working. I had been starting to wonder if I was ever going to find you and I was tired of being alone, so I thought I could force things along. We ran off to Vegas and got married on a whim. We were terrible for each other and things went downhill pretty fast. I wanted to have kids, but she wouldn’t stop stripping and when I found out that she’d been sleeping with anyone that would give her a second look, I left.”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers and I shake my head.
“I’m not. It wasn’t a fun time in my life but it taught me what it was that I really wanted and I finally found you so all things considered, I think it worked out pretty well.”
A deep blush stains her cheeks as she stares down at her plate.
“Can I get back to my questions now?” I ask with a laugh.
She gestures for me to continue as she stabs her pasta with her fork. “By all means.”
“Will you tell me about your dad?” I ask softly. It’s something I’ve thought about a lot since she first talked to me about it and I’m dying to know what she was like as a kid. I expected her to be upset by my question but a soft smile spreads across her face.
“He was… everything you could want in a dad. I’ve never met a more understanding, compassionate, friendly man in my life and he was so strong, too. He worked two, sometimes three, jobs just to give us the life he felt we deserved but he was never absent from our lives. It was always a priority of his to carve time out of his schedule for his family.”