Page 39 of Crave Me

“So I take it you were doing some Sunday afternoon shopping, then? Why else would you be downtown?”

His hands pressed against the countertop, spread farther apart than his shoulders. “Anyone ever tell you you’re too curious for your own good?”

I popped a scallop into my mouth. “Only my dad.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, the hint of a smile on his lips. “I remember that well.”

The reminder he knew me, knew my family, wiped the smile off my face. I took another sip of wine and pointed toward the fridge. “There’s drinks and beer in there if you want anything.” Since he’d done it anyway, I added, “Make yourself at home.”

Figuring I wouldn’t get the answers I was seeking, I tucked into my dinner, content to eat delicious food I would have been too lazy to cook for myself, and not doing it alone.

I had almost finished my pad thai and was reaching for a beef dish when he asked, “How are your parents doing? Anything new with them?”

I couldn’t mask my surprise. “They’re, um, fine.”

I scooped up the beef and settled back in my chair. My parents, Mark and Connie, were some of the best people I’d ever known. The captain of a firehouse in Grand Rapids and long-time stay at home mom, I bumped heads with them frequently but they’d never been less than supportive of me. “Your mom? She seemed well when I saw her last.”

A blush burned my cheeks as I remembered the night of the masquerade ball.

“She is well. Spending the next couple of months traveling around the Mediterranean with some bridge friends of hers.”

My lips tipped up. Grace Delgado was everything her name implied. Dignified and gracious, stylish and secure. Grief lingered in her eyes when I would sometimes catch her drifting off in thought when she had accompanied Simon to family dinners around the holidays, but she’d blink them away quickly, smile, and rejoin the conversation with laughter that never quite reached her eyes.

I’d always wanted that kind of love she clearly held for so long before Simon’s dad passed away.

The realization I would never have that with the man next to me crashed down onto my shoulders.

“Why are you here, Simon?” I picked at a piece of broccoli with my fork.

My stool jolted, his foot pushing on a rung.

Conflict tightened his jaw and edges of his eyes. “I was in the neighborhood.”

Liar. Before I could call him on it, he set down his own silverware and took a healthy drink from his beer.

“What if I told you, it’s because I couldn’t stop thinking about you?”

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