The Lucky One - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,84

been trying to understand. I’ve been thinking about it the last few days.”

She tried without success to follow his train of thought. This time instead of tapping his knee, she squeezed it. “You need to learn to be more clear. I’m still not following you.”

For the first time since she’d known him, she saw a flash of impatience cross his features. Almost immediately it was gone, and she sensed somehow that it was directed more at himself than at her.

“I’m saying that it doesn’t make sense that you haven’t had a relationship since your ex.” He paused, as if searching for the right phrase. “Yes, you have a son, and for some men, that might make a relationship with you a nonstarter. But then, you don’t generally hide the fact that you’re a mother, and I assume most people in this small town know your situation. Am I right?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“And the men who asked you out. They all knew you had a son in advance?”

“Yes.”

He fixed her with a speculative expression. “Then where are they?”

Zeus rotated his head into her lap, and she began to stroke him behind the ears, feeling her defensiveness rise.

“What does it matter?” she asked. “And to be honest, I’m not sure I’m all that thrilled with these kinds of questions. What happened in the past is my business, and I can’t undo it, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to sit here and question me about who I dated and when I dated them and what happened on those dates. I am who I am, and I’d think you of all people would understand that, Mr. I-walked-from-Colorado-but-don’t-ask-me-why.”

He was quiet, and she knew he was reflecting on what she’d said. When he spoke again, his voice brimmed with unexpected tenderness.

“I’m not saying this to make you angry. I’m saying this because I think you’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.” Again, he paused before going on, making sure his words had penetrated. “The thing is, I’m pretty sure that almost every man would feel the same way I do. And since you have gone out with other men, especially in this small town where there are only so many available women in your age group, I’m sure they would have recognized the terrific person that you are. Okay, maybe some of them weren’t your cup of tea, so you ended it. But what about the others? The ones you liked? There had to have been someone, somewhere along the line with whom you seemed to click.”

He scooped up a handful of sand and slowly spread his fingers, allowing the grains to slip through his fingers. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about. Because it’s just not plausible that you wouldn’t have clicked with someone, and yet you told me yourself that you haven’t had a lot of luck in the dating world.”

He wiped his hand on the towel. “Am I wrong so far?”

She stared at him, wondering how he knew so much. “No,” she said.

“And you’ve wondered about it, haven’t you?”

“Sometimes,” she confessed. “But don’t you think you’re reading way too much into this? Even if I were as perfect as you say, you have to remember that times have changed. There are probably thousands, if not tens of thousands, of women that you could describe in the same way.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged.

“But you’re not convinced.”

“No.” His clear blue eyes held her in their unwavering scrutiny.

“What? You think there’s some sort of conspiracy?”

Instead of answering directly, he reached for another handful of sand. “What can you tell me about your ex?” he asked.

“Why does that matter?”

“I’m curious as to how he feels about you dating.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t care in the slightest. And I can’t imagine why you think that even matters.”

He released the sand all at once. “Because,” he said, his voice low. He turned toward her. “I’m pretty sure he was the one who broke into my house the other day.”

19

Thibault

Late Saturday evening, after Elizabeth had left, Thibault found Victor sitting in his living room, still dressed in the shorts and cabana-style shirt he’d been wearing on the day he died.

The sight of him stopped Thibault in his tracks. All he could do was stare. It wasn’t possible, nor was it really happening. Thibault knew that Victor was gone, buried in a small plot near Bakersfield. He knew Zeus would have reacted had anyone real been in the house, but Zeus simply wandered to his water bowl.

In the silence, Victor smiled. “There is

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