Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
“I’m willing to wait for as long as you need me to,” he murmured.
Then he kissed me again.
FIFTY-FOUR
DAVINA
“Now I want to ask you something.” I pushed my plate of pasta away and folded my fingers beneath my chin.
While steering The Saint back to the cottage, Deke had suggested we go to a restaurant to eat, but after what’d happened with Manhattan Rose and the pictures of us at the hotel floating around, the last thing I wanted was more private photos of us taken just to be sold to some tabloid.
Instead, we had ordered the food for pickup so we could eat in the cottage. For the first time, I’d ridden in his leather-scented Ferrari, watching as he drove past thick-trunked trees and coasted along black pavement peppered with leaves.
Deke sat up in his chair and picked up a napkin from the glass table to wipe his mouth. “What’s up?”
“Well, it’s a personal question, so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
His throat bobbed, and his features hardened just a little as he said, “Okay . . .”
“So, when we first started emailing, you said something about how grief never goes away.”
He stared at me blankly before lowering his head, like he knew where this was headed.
“I only say that because I, um . . . I saw a picture your mom posted about your brother from several years ago. I guess I’m wondering why you never talk about him like how you talk about your sisters.”
Deke’s nostrils flared as he stood up and grabbed my plate. “You done with this?” he asked, already carrying it to the kitchen.
“Deke, you know what? It’s fine. I don’t mean to pry. I’m sorry.”
His back was to me as he set the plates on the island counter. He planted his fists on the quartz countertop, his shoulders tense. Then his shoulders relaxed, and he threw his head back, pointing his face to the ceiling.
“Is this why you sent her to me?” he mumbled. He said the words lowly, a quiet whisper to God, but I heard every single one.
Deke turned and rested his lower back against the counter edge, his biceps bulging beneath his shirt. “I don’t talk about him for the same reasons you don’t talk much about your husband.”
It was my turn to look away. I focused on the leftover garlic knots on the table.
“You asked about him earlier, and I told you,” I reminded him. A silence fell down on us, thick and tense. I heard him release a belly-deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Deke whispered. He maneuvered his way back to me and lowered to a squat next to my chair. He took my hand and held it tight, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “Davina, I’m sorry,” he repeated. “That wasn’t fair. That’s just a sensitive topic for me. I don’t like thinking about it.” I turned my head a fraction to find his eyes, only to realize my vision was blurry.
Damn it. No. I was not about to cry in front of him. I pulled my hand out of his and left the table to sit on one of the couches. As I sank into the plush material, I closed my eyes and let out a trembling breath.
Deke circled the couch and sat next to me.
“You’re right,” I muttered. “If you hadn’t brought him up, I wouldn’t have told you about him, so I get it. Forget I even asked anything.”
“No,” Deke murmured. “I feel like I should tell you something about him so you can understand why he’s a sore subject for me.”
His eyes were glossy. He was trying desperately hard not to cry. Way to ruin a great weekend, Davina.
“His name was Damon,” Deke said. “He died when I was fourteen, so he was seventeen. And I, uh . . .” He scratched the top of his head, eyes bouncing around the room. “I don’t like bringing it up because he committed suicide.”
At that, my eyes stretched, and my heart dropped. No longer was my guard rising. It had slammed back down again, and I instinctively took Deke’s hand in mine.
“Deke. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, well . . . now you know.” He offered a pathetic smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“But . . . why did he do it? If you don’t mind me asking.”
Deke shrugged. “I have my assumptions for why he did it, but we’ll never really know.”
I started to ask something else, but his phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he grabbed it, almost like he was in the center of the ocean and it was a raft he could hang on to. Something to save him, spare him from remembering the overwhelming details.
I could see the relief in his eyes, how quick he was to stand. All the other times when his phone rang, he ignored the calls, but not now.