Third Life - Noelle Adams Page 0,65
sort of plan first so you wouldn’t think I’m some sort of pathetic leech who was going to drop myself in your lap and expect you to support me.”
I laugh at how ridiculous such an idea is, and I tell him so.
“Anyway, there’s a coffee shop. It’s got good business—a lot of loyal customers—and potential for growth. The owner wants to sell it but doesn’t want it to close or turn into something else. I talked to him a couple of days ago. There might be potential there.”
“You want to own a coffee shop?”
Richard gives his little shrug. “Why not? I’ve got a lot of savings, so the financing would be no problem. It sounds as good as anything else. I think I could be good at it. I just want to do something. Something worthwhile. Something I could be proud of.”
I hug him for that, and we talk through possibilities. He tells me where the coffee shop is, and I realize I’ve passed by it several times. Maybe even stopped in for coffee once or twice.
For the first time, the very first time, I see a vision for our future that isn’t clouded by a job he can’t talk about and a life that’s lived in the shadows.
Maybe it’s possible. Maybe we can build a life together. A real life. Together.
Because that’s exactly what I want.
THAT EVENING, WE GO to eat in a little pub Richard likes just a couple of blocks away. We walk since it’s close, but it’s a chillier evening than I realized, and I didn’t put a jacket on, so I’m cold when we arrive.
As we step inside, I’m shivering, so Richard laughingly wraps his arms around me to warm me up.
I’ve been in a gushy mood since my talk with Richard this afternoon. I mean, it’s a high like I’ve never experienced before. I honestly think that one more good thing will send me right over the edge, and I’ll fall over a cliff of pure giddiness forevermore.
So his teasing attempt to warm me up makes me giggle like a fool. I bury my face in his sweater. Wonder if this is how it feels to be in love.
I’ve never done it before. Been in love. I honestly don’t know if this is what it’s like.
Because I’m in this particular state, because I’m physically this close to Richard, and because I’m currently acutely attuned to every detail of his body and expression, I can feel the shift in his mood immediately.
He was chuckling warmly and rubbing my back just a moment ago, but now he tightens. Stiffens. Grows still.
I pull away and peer at him questioningly, having no clue what’s going on but not liking the change.
He’s not looking at me. He’s looking over my shoulder, so I turn to see what’s diverted him.
It’s a woman. It has to be her that caused this reaction since she’s the only person who has moved into view since we entered.
She’s attractive with dark hair and a slim, polished appearance. She looks to be in her forties. She’s giving Richard the coldest look I’ve ever seen on a human face. Like ice. Not just like she’s stunned to see him, but like she hates him.
I can’t breathe. Literally can’t breathe for a minute as I turn back to Richard.
“Let’s find a seat,” he murmurs to me, wrenching his eyes away from the woman and not looking at her again.
The woman was evidently getting a couple of beers to take back to her table. She’s got two in her hands. She’s stopped. Not moving. Still staring at Richard.
My skin has grown clammy as Richard puts a hand on my back and guides me out of the entrance, past the woman he’s obviously trying to pretend doesn’t exist.
“Richard Steele,” she says.
He can’t exactly ignore that. He gives the woman a brief nod of acknowledgment—no hint of a smile—and pushes me past her.
I go with him. Of course I do. But I turn and give the woman one more look over my shoulder to discover she’s still watching Richard and me as we walk away.
I was so happy just a minute ago, but now all that giddiness is freezing into fear. I have no idea why, but I know one thing for sure.
The appearance of that woman is the prelude to something terrible. Richard can pretend to ignore it all he wants, but it’s not going to go away.
I’m scared to ask the question. Scared of what the answer will