Page 97 of The Moment You Know

“She said she didn’t because she doesn’t have kids and doesn’t watch ‘cartoons’. I told her I didn’t have kids—” Paige broke off, her expression dimming for a brief second, then finished with a bit of a forced smile, “—and The Incredibles doesn’t count as a ‘cartoon’.”

Silence settled over them for a moment, as they both looked at one another.

The last two times he’d seen her, he’d been struck by how different she was, and once again the changes he could see in her smacked him in the face.

Today, she was wearing black slacks and an ivory, wrap-around blouse with a black floral pattern, that gave her a hint of cleavage. It was the sexiest blouse he’d ever seen her wear and while it gave him pause, the cleavage was what had him momentarily at a loss for words.

Who was this woman?

“The shorter hair suits you.” He said it without thinking, then quickly added, “I noticed it when I saw you the other day—”

“You mean, when you ambushed me at work?”

He thought about denying that, but shrugged instead. “Yes.”

“I got it cut on my birthday,” she told him. “There was a little bit of duress involved—Jules was in cahoots with her hairdresser.”

“Well, it looks good. And I apologize if I just made things really awkward here.”

“You didn’t make things awkward. I just wasn’t expecting the compliment.” She leaned back in her chair. “But, thank you. And, since one compliment deserves another, let me just say that the longer hair really suits you. The beard, too. Although … I do miss the little cleft in your chin.”

He was pleasantly surprised by her admission, even though it shouldn’t matter if she liked his appearance or not. Or missed his cleft. “The long hair and beard happened by accident. After the divorce, I wasn’t motivated to do things like get haircuts, or shave, and everything just sort of grew out. My mom said it made me look like I was homeless.”

Paige tilted her head. “That doesn’t sound like something your mom would say.”

“Well, she did. She said worse, actually, especially when I decided to keep it that way. I had to remind her that I was a grown man.”

Indeed, he was. Without permission, her eyes roamed over him, taking in the strong lines of his body, lingering on his shoulders which filled out his gray and blue plaid shirt nicely. When she realized what she was doing, she looked away and cleared her throat.

“So, what have you been wanting to talk to me about?” she asked, abruptly turning the subject to the purpose of the meeting. She adopted what she hoped was a neutral expression, in case it turned out to be him telling her something she didn’t want to hear, like he was marrying Ashley or having another baby with her.

“Your book.”

That was the last thing she’d been expecting to hear. “My book?”

“Yes, your book.” His expression had turned borderline grim, shocking her a little at the quick flip. “And let me start off by saying how pissed I am that you didn’t tell me about it.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“I can’t tell you how shitty it was to find out about your book and what your Uncle Carter did to you, from my mom.”

“From your mom?”

“Yes. She saw it on her Kindle and read it, then bought me a copy,” he continued tightly. It was almost as if the floodgates had opened, letting all of his anger and disappointment come pouring out. “That was one of the worst moments of my life, to be honest. And since then, I’ve been trying to figure out why you would write a book about what happened to you and sell it to strangers, but didn’t reach out to tell me, someone who should’ve been on your short-list of people to tell. I just don’t understand—” he broke off for a second. “I mean, I know you were blocked so you couldn’t call me, but you could’ve emailed me at least. And the fact that you didn’t is a kick in the balls.”

Paige opened her mouth, then closed it, utterly at a loss in the wake of everything he’d just said, not to mention the outrage directed at her. Clearing her throat again in an attempt to regain some equilibrium, she forced herself to meet his gaze and held it for a moment before saying, “I don’t even know what to say right now. I did email you—more than once.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

She stared at him. “David, I emailed you two years ago about getting together to talk about Carter, but you declined. I was going to tell you everything then, but you didn’t give me the chance. Then, when I emailed you about the book, you had no interest in reading an advance copy—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he repeated, his voice rising. “I never got any emails.”

His denial brought her up short and she almost shook her head like a cartoon character. “Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

She searched his face, looking for any sign that he was lying to her, even though there was no logical reason for him to do so and saw nothing but honesty.

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