ago or even two months ago.” Basically, it was before Becca was in the picture.
She just looks at me, and I know she is trying to help, but right now, it isn’t helping. Nothing is helping by knowing that. I stand, going over to the window and look out. The dread just sinking into me. “I’m sure,” Lizzie says, and I shake my head.
“Don’t,” I say, and a knock on the door has Lizzie getting up. I don’t have time to sit and think of a solution because something else comes up, and by the time I look out, it’s close to seven.
Lizzie pokes her head in. “Are you heading out?” she asks, and I nod my head. “See you tomorrow morning. The plane is leaving at eight.”
My stomach sinks again, but nothing can prepare me for the way it hurts when my phone rings, and I see it’s Becca.
“Hey,” I say, putting the phone to my ear.
“Well, hello there,” she says, and the smile comes automatically. “Are you still at work?”
“Technically, yes,” I say, pressing the elevator button. “But I’m on my way home now.”
“Did you want to get dinner?” she asks. “I can pick something up, or we can not.” She sounds nervous.
“How about you meet me at my place?” I say, getting into my SUV. “I have meals delivered, and if not, we can get something ordered.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, and her voice goes low. “It’s fine either way. I’ve had a long day anyway.”
“I’ll send you the address. Go there now. If you get there before me, I can give you the code for the gate.” She laughs. “It’s twenty-five twenty-six. For next time or this time or whenever you want to stop by.”
“I’ll see you soon.” She hangs up, and I forward her my address. She replies that she is twenty minutes away.
We get there at the same time. I walk over to her, wrapping my arm around her waist. “Hi,” I whisper right before my mouth claims hers. My tongue mixes with hers, and I don’t want to let her go. She molds into me and wraps one arm around my neck and the other goes to my chest.
“Hi,” she says when I finally release her. I turn, putting one hand around her shoulder as we walk up the steps to go into the house. “How was your day?”
“Good,” I lie. “Long. What about you?” I ask when we walk into the house. My arm never leaves her shoulder. She sets her purse down on the table in the middle of the foyer. I slip off my jacket and toss it on the table next to her purse. I stand here for a second, looking at her stuff mixed with mine.
“It was good. The same.” My hand reaches out, linking my fingers with hers. “I told my brothers about us,” she says, and I look down at the floor, not ready to look up yet. The heaviness in my heart gets stronger and stronger.
“What did they say?” I ask, looking over at her and then looking away as fast as I looked at her. The pain is too much to look at her right now.
“Normal stuff I guess,” she says as we walk into the kitchen. I let her hand go to go to the fridge. “Obviously, they weren’t happy-ish with the news.” I look over at her and see her eyes down, looking at her fingers in front of her. “But it’s not their decision. It’s mine.”
The lump in my throat forms, and all I can do is nod. I fucking nod. I grab two meals, not knowing what it is and just pop them into the microwave. “Are you okay to eat out of the container, or do you want to plate it?”
“I’m good with the container,” she says, pulling out one of the stools at the island counter. “This kitchen is huge,” she says, and I turn to the sound of the microwave beeping. I check and add more time.
“Do you want something to drink?” I ask, going to the fridge and seeing if there is an open bottle of white wine. “I have wine, beer, soda.”
“I’ll have water,” she says, and I hear the sound of her shoes coming closer to me. “Do you want me to get the forks and knives?” she asks from beside me. I look over at her, and my heart speeds up because she takes my breath away when she looks at me. Her