Love In Slow Motion (Love Beyond Measure #2) - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,15
your run?”
“It was good. I try to get in as many beach runs as I can before the weather turns hot,” she said. “I grew up in Texas, so this is kind of nice compared to that, but I hate summer.”
Fredric wrinkled his nose. “Not much of a fan myself. But I think I’ll enjoy it this year a bit more.”
“Because you’re divorced?” she asked, and he blinked in surprise, because he wasn’t quite expecting her to just say it like that. But god, it was refreshing.
“I haven’t been on my own since I was seventeen. I got married young, had kids young. Then I had a stroke.”
“Is that why you’re blind?”
He smiled at the way she didn’t tiptoe around anything. “It is. I was in my twenties—it was…unexpected.” Bas slowed down, and he felt the way the sand started to shift under his feet—dry from where the high tide never reached—that they were getting close to the railing. “Do you want to come in for a drink?”
“No,” she said. “I have to shower and then get to work. I promised myself I wouldn’t ask about dinner again, but…”
“Tonight,” Fredric said with a grin. “Let’s do it tonight.”
Agatha let out a small laugh. “Okay. I’m going to tell Teddy it was your idea, otherwise he’s going to bitch at me for not letting it go.”
And the phrase was simple—and it was silly, and even her tone was playful, but Fredric felt himself stiffen. He went cold inside—only for a second, because he was still walking on eggshells for a woman who wasn’t around anymore and the idea that Agatha had done the same for a lover was too much.
And then…it wasn’t. Then, he could breathe again.
“You just went pale,” Agatha said.
“I know. I’m…” he hesitated, then shook his head. “I’m working on a few things. Agatha, can I ask you something?”
“Yes,” she answered, and he felt the heat off her—smelled the sweat—as she stepped closer.
“Does Teddy make you happy?”
She sighed. “No, but I don’t want him to make me happy. That idea just puts so much pressure on a relationship, and I don’t…I don’t want us to fail.”
“So, what does he do for you?”
“He lets me find my happy,” she told him, and the simplicity of it—the sheer grace and beauty of a concept he’d never even dared to think about, hit him in the sternum. “And I find it a lot. And when I don’t, he helps me find comfort.”
“Thank you,” he said, and his voice was rough, but he was glad she didn’t ask him to elaborate. He waited to hear the shuffle of her feet in the direction of her house before he gave Bas the command to go back in, and he didn’t take a full breath until the door was closed behind him and he’d released his dog from the harness.
He couldn’t remember if he’d locked the gate behind him, but he knew Bas wouldn’t wander off. He trusted him to stay close, and he was trusting himself in this new routine to get him from point A to point B.
He lets me find my happy.
The words echoed as he got water, as he pressed his palm to the counter, feeling the early morning chill in the smooth stone.
He helps me find comfort.
It was a foreign concept, but it awakened a need in him he wasn’t expecting, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He’d only been divorced ten months, and it had only been a few weeks since leaving the only world he’d known for most of his life.
But he wanted it—he wanted what she had. He wanted to reach out and know that the person he loved was reaching back. He wanted to meet in the middle and whisper secrets and know that everything fragile and delicate about him was safe. He wanted to explore the parts of him that had been neglected for as long as he could remember, and he wanted to let himself hope that those abandoned pieces could still be found. And nurtured. And were worthy of love.
Fredric pushed away from his computer, closing down his to-do list and letting out a small sigh, because he was nowhere near accomplishing any of his goals. He’d spent the afternoon in quiet contemplation, realizing he didn’t want a PA who ran his life like before. He wanted to be in charge of it all, but he wasn’t quite sure where to get started.