Page 97 of Notorious

Sam’s smile goes all soft, and his eyes instinctively go to Jules’s. “Does he know that?”

“He knows I care about him.”

Sam leans forward. “But have you told him that it’s … more?”

I shake my head.

“Then tell him, mate,” Jules says. “I bet he needs to hear it.”

CHAPTER 32

Kurt

To my surprise, Johnny isn’t back yet when I get home from Sam and Jules’s. That doesn’t do anything to settle my nerves. I’m feeling faint, and I’ve got a headache coming on.

I want to ask Johnny if he’d consider doing this thing—relationship—for real, but I feel like a kid asking his crush to go to prom and not knowing if they’ll say yes.

Except … what we have is real. Isn’t it?

If he’s going to turn me down, I don’t want it to be in my living room, where I’ll have to relive the rejection over and over and over again. The beach is right across the way—we just have to put on shoes, go down to the light and cross the highway, and we’re there. That’s a safer place to do it.

Who’s the optimist now?

I keep pacing in the hall, waiting, and when he finally walks in the door, it’s all I can do not to jump on him.

“Did you have a good dinner?” I ask.

He nods and kisses me. “Yeah, thanks. Got a lot to think about.”

“Want to go for a walk on the beach?”

“Yeah,” he says. “That sounds nice.”

His cowboy boots aren’t great for walking on sand, but I bought him some blue rubber shower shoes for the hospital, and he’s taken to keeping those in the front hallway so they’re convenient for walks like this.

My husband’s wearing dark blue Wrangler jeans, a tight heather gray T-shirt, and a black zip hoodie, and I want to climb him like a tree. He’s let his hair grow out so it’s a bit long and wavy, and the front flops down over his brow. I want to brush it out of his face. He has no business looking so effortlessly sexy.

I put on my own flip-flops, and we walk down to the state beach.

The ocean is silver and gold where the last of the sunlight glints off its surface, and since there’s been some rain recently, clouds on the horizon range from vibrant deep orange to bright pink. Does that mean more storms? I can’t tell what to expect, and that seems like a metaphor for everything in my life right now.

We stop for a moment, watching the waves lick up on the shore. There’s a breeze, and the water is choppy.

I clear my throat, and Johnny turns to me, his eyes neutral. “So, I’m considering something.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I’m kind of thinking of quitting the Senate race. Maybe see how the debate goes, but if my numbers don’t improve after that, drop out.”

His face falls. “If that’s what you want, then you should do it.”

“Hey,” I say, stepping forward and taking his hand. “I didn’t think it would upset you.”

“It don’t upset me none.”

“Then why do you look like that? Like I kicked you.”

He’s silent for a moment, lips pressed together. Then he says, “Do you have any use for me if you’re not running? Didn’t we stay together because you needed your image to be … not volatile?”

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