if I were him, especially since I’m guessing he’s not looking to walk into the baggage claim area with me, even though I’m dragging around a number of suitcases these days.
“Blake had some issues with us being together. He said Tanner had bad intentions, and that I was just another notch on his bedpost. But I thought it was just a bogus reason to break up his sister and best friend. Jealousy maybe? The whole thing made him so upset and angry that I put family first and ended things with Tanner.” I sigh and take a long sip of the wine. “But you know, out of respect for Blake, no matter how many times in the past year he’s asked me to reconsider, I haven’t given in. I can’t.”
Hayes nods and takes a sip of his wine. “Shows the kind of person you are—loyal and honest. You put your family’s feelings first. It’s noble.”
I place my glass down on the table, “Yeah.” I’m not sure I’d call myself noble right now.
He wraps his arm around my neck, pulling me in a little closer. “We’ve all got a past, Blondie-locks,” he says, placing his glass down next to mine. “My ex-fiancé is a train wreck who left me for some yuppie country-singer wannabe.” I give him a curled lip. “She left her ring on a piece of notebook paper saying, she needed to ‘figure things out.’”
This little tidbit twists at my insides. “Ouch.”
He laughs, more cynically than cheerfully. “Life kind of dumped on me this past year. After she left, I did nothing but focus on work and becoming a detective, the thing I had been working toward since I started at twenty-two. Everything was getting better, and I was damn good at what I did. When the kid got shot and died in my arms, I decided I needed a sabbatical from life. I obviously lost my ability to focus.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “And that’s where I am now.”
“Have you considered running away to Mexico?” I ask with a soft laugh. “Because I have.” And I mean that. God, I’ve wanted nothing more than to run away. After this whole thing with Tanner last year, then the stress in the kitchen, and now Blake and the fire, running away seems like a viable option. The only viable option.
“Way too many times,” he says. “I’ve thought of moving, I’m just not sure where I want to go. So, I’m still here for now.”
A mish-mash of broken pieces, I think. That’s what we are.
I take another sip of my wine and stand up. “Show me the rest of your place.”
He laughs, a real laugh and turns to look at me. “You sound like a dude, trying to work your way into my bed.”
“Call it what you want. I just want to see the rest of your place.” I give him a teasing smirk, which is all it takes for him to stand up and pull me with him.
He opens the first door on the right side of the hall. He pokes his head in and flips the light on. “My office, which is out of commission for the moment.” I move past him, walking in, curious about what I might see. His desk is lined with photographs and note cards. His wall is covered with corkboards filled with maps that contain names and locations. A web of string is woven around pins connecting people to places. I guess it’s exactly how I’d imagine a detective’s office to look. But neater.
He flips the light back off and pulls me out. “And this is the bathroom.” The walls are heather grey; towels and bathmat are a bleached white. Everything is in its spot just like the rest of the condo—everything except a towel draped over the tub.
For a second I imagine him wearing it.
“And where does the magic happen?” I ask, nudging his shoulder.
“I just moved in about six months ago after I sold my house. There’s been no magic here,” he points to the shower, “out there,” he points to the living room, then he flips the light on in his bedroom, “or in here.”
“Interesting,” I say, moving past him into his room. As I walk into the oversized bedroom, I look at the pictures lining his bureau. They’re all of a little girl. “Is she your niece?” I ask naively.
He drops his hands into his pocket and plops down onto the edge of his bed. “That’s my daughter.”
CHAPTER