like Tom Clancy and Ken Follett. What about you?”
“I like the classics, but I’ve been reading romance lately. I needed something to remind me that just because my ex wasn’t romantic that there are romantic men out there. I know it’s fiction, but fiction is at least somewhat based on reality, right?”
“To a degree, sure.”
She hesitated, chewing her lower lip. “Did you feel betrayed? By the end of your marriage, I mean?”
“Maybe a little,” he said slowly. “It was hard because I opened myself up to this woman, showed her everything about myself, and she just walked away when things got complicated. That’s the part I’ve struggled with, but I’m past it now.”
“But you’re still careful.”
“Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”
“Yes and no.” She seemed thoughtful. “I liked being in love, so I’d like to feel that way again, but I stopped loving him a long time ago, even though I didn’t break it off right away. To me, it feels like I’ve been single for much longer than I actually have.”
“Trust me, I get it. At least you weren’t married and didn’t have to go through an actual divorce.”
“Was it ugly?” she asked curiously.
“Not really. There was a lot of yelling in the beginning—her not me—and then a whole lot of tears. Then her family got involved and it was all sad and stupid.”
“There was a lot of yelling when I caught Saku in bed with Jaana.” Tara smiled ruefully. “But I think it was warranted.”
“Yeah, there would have been a lot more yelling on my part if I’d caught her in bed with someone else.”
“That’s something I’d never do,” Tara said. “I’m not a cheater.”
“Ditto.” He pulled through Gage’s gate and parked at the end of the driveway. He got out and took Tara’s hand as they walked. They went inside, and Tara led him to a set of closed double French doors that opened into a room he’d never been in, though he’d been to Gage and Laurel’s house many times.
“Oh, wow, this is great,” he said, looking around. “I had no idea he had a library.”
“Isn’t it wonderful? Someday, I want a smaller version of this in my own home.”
“Why a smaller version?” he asked curiously.
“Well…” She hesitated. “I guess since Gage is a billionaire, and I’m positive I’ll never be that rich, I assume I’ll never have anything quite this grand. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love it, but I’d also be happy with a smaller version. I mean, the fireplace alone probably cost more than I make in a year.”
“I think you’ll like the fireplace at my house,” he said after a moment. “It’s not quite this grand, but it’s impressive. I think so anyway.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
She walked over to the fireplace and hit a button.
“It’s electric?” he asked in surprise.
“The one in here is—smoke and gas fumes aren’t good for books and Gage said he has many collectible first editions—but the others in the house are wood-burning.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“Good evening, Miss Tara. Mr. Legori. Can I get you anything?” Wenda came in with a smile.
“Hello, Wenda.” Tara turned to Donovan. “Hot chocolate? Hot tea? Something alcoholic?”
“As much as I’d like something alcoholic, I’m not drinking for a few weeks. I’ll have tea.”
“Same.” Tara nodded at Wenda. “Will you bring us a variety? Along with honey?”
“Of course.” Wenda smiled. “And perhaps a few of those cookies you like?”
“Yes, thank you.” Tara moved to one of the massive mahogany bookshelves and plucked a book from it. “This is one of my all-time favorite books.”
“What is it?” he asked, going to stand beside her.
“It’s called A Wrinkle in Time. They made a movie about it, but it’s not as good as the book series. There are four books in it, and I love them far more than the movie.”
“Are you going to read it to me?” he teased.
“No.” She gave him a bland look. “I was going to have you read it to me.”
He laughed. “If you want me to.”
She chuckled. “I’m kidding. I was planning to take it up to my room. I try to read a little while before bed each night.”
“I usually pass out.”
“If I played hockey for several hours each day, I’m sure I would, too.”
“I find the travel more exhausting than the hockey,” he said, taking the book from her and opening to the first page. “What is this—a kids’ book?”
“I think it’s called middle grade, but brilliant science fiction. I learned fancy words like mitochondria reading stuff like this.”
“I