We both froze. I’d heard the phrase a few hundred thousand times in the Walton kitchen, mostly from Simon when he and Karen shared meal prep duties.
I didn’t know where to look. The glimpse of raw grief as it flitted across her face was like a knife to my heart. I wasn’t equipped to deal with emotions like that. I handled problems, presented solutions. I didn’t navigate personal loss with someone, no matter how much I loved them.
Karen was more a mother to me than my own. And Simon had been the kind of father I wished I’d deserved.
She cleared her throat and pasted a cheerful look on her pretty face. “How about we just pretend everything is normal for a while?” she suggested.
“Fine. But don’t think that I’ll let you win at rummy just because you’re a widow now,” I warned.
Karen’s laugh was nothing like Sloane’s. It was a loud, joyous guffaw that made my chest feel warm and bright. Sloane’s was a throaty chuckle that went straight to my gut.
I could picture her across the table, smiling at me as if we weren’t poison to each other.
A sharp burning sensation against my thumb yanked me back to the present moment.
I adjusted my grip on the potholder.
I’d managed to set fire to a vehicle without burning myself, but give me a frozen pizza and time to think about a certain blond librarian and my guard crumbled.
I forcibly blocked the vexatious vixen from my mind and focused on the Walton woman before me.
It was late by the time I got home and showered the arson off me. I collapsed on my king-size bed and blew out a long breath.
The lamp on my nightstand cast a quiet glow on my copy of The Midnight Library. I wondered if she was reading right now. Or if maybe, just maybe she was lying in her bed thinking of me.
I doubted it. Every time I saw Sloane, she looked both surprised and disappointed to realize I still existed.
I shouldn’t be the only one losing sleep. I picked up my phone. It took me a minute to settle on the right approach. I scrolled through my contacts, found the one I was looking for, and sent it off.
When the message wasn’t immediately read, I threw the phone onto the bedspread next to me and covered my face with my hands.
I was an idiot. A weak, undisciplined idiot. Just because we’d managed to share a civil lunch together didn’t mean…
The phone vibrated against the plush bedspread.
I dove for it.
Sloane: What did you just send me?
Me: The contact information for an attorney who specializes in appeals. She’s expecting your call tomorrow. You’re welcome.
I saw three dots appear, then disappear. I stared at the screen, willing them to reappear. Thirty seconds later, they did.
Sloane: Thanks.
It took that much effort for her to type one word to me?
What was I even doing? I could have had an assistant send her the information. Hell, I could have had an assistant give the information to Lina, who actually worked in my office. I didn’t need to be texting Sloane at—I swiveled to glare at the clock. It was almost midnight.
Disgusted with myself, I tossed my phone on the nightstand and stacked my hands under my head.
The phone vibrated again.
I pulled a neck muscle pouncing on it.
Sloane: Lina told me what happened to Holly today. Is she okay?
Rubbing my neck, I debated waiting to respond, then decided I was too tired to play games.
Me: Everyone is fine.
Sloane: Are you okay?
Was I? I didn’t feel okay. I felt like things were unspooling, slipping from my fingers. I’d made a career of foreseeing every contingency, every play. Yet I’d missed this one. What else was I missing? And why was I slipping now?
Me: I’m fine.
Sloane: My phone has this cool bullshit detector app, and that “sorry, wrong answer” buzzer noise just went off. It scared the cat.
Me: I’m fine. Just tired.
Sloane: You do know it’s not your job to protect everyone from everything, don’t you?
But it was my job to protect my people from my actions and the consequences of those actions.
Me: I saw your mother tonight.
No dots appeared. I’d pushed too far. Or she’d fallen asleep.
I was just dumping my phone on the nightstand again when it rang.
“What?”
“You really need to work on your phone etiquette.” Sloane’s voice was husky in my ear. It made me think of those fleeting perfect moments from before. Falling asleep next to her on a pile of pillows in a nice bedroom in a safe house. I hated that my body so viscerally remembered those times. “How’s she doing?”