Page 76 of The Dark Before Light

She rubs her hands together. “Wait until this hits national publications. Hello, bidding wars.”

I shift in my chair. “Can we talk about something else?”

She laughs knowingly. “Sure. Have you reached out to you-know-who?”

I wince, realizing I set myself up. Shaking my head, I look into my tea so I don’t have to see her sympathetic expression.

After waking up on Sunday and losing my mind, I wound up calling her instead of Leo. In the moment, I’d needed a female friend far more than a therapist. She showed up at my house an hour later and stayed all day.

She knows everything, down to the fact I let Kieran dominate me and enjoyed—no, loved every second of it. And every day since, she’s been bugging me to contact him. For closure, for clarification, or for—as she optimistically believes—confirmation that Saturday night meant as much to him as it did to me. That his trip to Ireland wasn’t him trying to get as far away from me as fast as he could.

Every day, I’ve woken up a little less opposed to the idea. A little less scared.

But I’m not brave enough yet.

“I have no idea what I’d say,” I say with a sigh. “‘Are you over me now that you had me?’ Or there’s always, ‘Statistically speaking, your desire for me is likely a projection of complex, unresolved feelings for your dead wife, but I’m down to have my heart smashed, so let’s go.’”

Her brows lift. “Maybe start with, ‘Hi, how are you?’”

A smile tugs my lips. “What a novel idea.”

She grins. “I thought so.”

A figure moves into my periphery, approaching my side of the table. Mia glances at them first. From the shift in her expression, I know it’s not our server. Bracing myself, I turn my head.

A man smiles down at me. Generically handsome, blond, around Kieran’s age. It takes a second to place his face: Oliver McCann, one of Lumitech’s executives. He and his wife were seated across from us at the Alzheimer’s benefit. I didn’t speak to him outside of introductions and goodbyes, though I remember his wife drank too much.

“Hi, Talia. I don’t know if you remember?—”

“Oliver,” I say with manufactured politeness. “Nice to see you again.”

His smile becomes more confident. A touch smug. I almost tell him not to take it personally—I didn’t remember him because he made an impression. I just have a photographic memory.

“Great to see you, too. I thought I’d pop over and say hello. See how you’ve been.”

My gaze narrows; I’m officially annoyed. “I’m fine, thank you. How’s Jenny?”

Instead of the mention of his wife turning off the gleam in his eye, it only grows. “Great. How’s Kieran?”

Caught off guard, I ask, “How should I know?” Then I wish I could retract the words as interest flares in his eyes.

“Oh? Sorry for assuming.” His chuckle is insincere, as is the abashed expression that follows. “I was confused because I thought Kieran was in the Maldives with his girlfriend, but then I saw you and thought maybe you two had stayed local.” He grins. “Does this mean you’re single?”

I glance at Mia, who looks incensed. Before she can say what’s on her mind, I tell Oliver, “No. I’d like to get back to breakfast now.”

He blinks in that baffled way some men do when a woman is too direct. “Oh, sure. Sorry to interrupt. Take care.”

With a final, lingering glance, he retreats around the wall of greenery behind me.

“What the fuck,” hisses Mia. “What a sleaze ball. You know he was lying about Kieran, right?”

“Yes.”

And I do. Not only would Sven not lie to me about where they were going, Kieran wouldn’t have had sex with me and taken someone else on vacation the next morning.

Taking another sip of tea, I frown.

“What’s the conclusion, Doctor?”

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