Page 37 of Push

He laughed. “Okay, I’m glad it’s not just me. Are we out of practice doing this solo?” He tilted his head. “We have a lot in common. I’m sure we can talk without all the jokes and the…the…”

“Toby?”

He managed a heartier laugh this time. “Yeah.” The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he took another sip of his coffee. “Are you reading anything good at the moment? Did you finish that new mystery novel?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“What’s your final rating?”

“I guessed the murderer on page three. One out of five stars. How’s your Cormac McCarthy era heading?”

“Slowly. Everything’s so…” He waved a hand, trying to think of the word.

“Bleak?”

“Nailed it.”

“I did try to warn you.”

“I needed to understand the pain for myself so we can properly tear his literary genius to shreds. Recommend me something. I trust your opinion more than just about anyone else. What are you reading now?”

The conversation was easy. It always was with Ian. Was that…okay? “I’ve been sneaking in a few chapters of a new biography.” I tapped a restless finger on the counter.

“Do tell.”

“It’s about Martha Stewart. I thought it might be an inspiring…book…for balancing….” My voice hitched, but I fought through the emotion threatening to overwhelm me. “For balancing a career and family. She’s a bit less nurturing than I…” I fought the wobble of my chin. “Than I thought…”

A pitiful wave washed over me, and the tears started. Panicked, I swiped at my face. Ian jumped off the stool, and his hand lowered into the curve of my spine. That soft touch only made the tears fall faster.

“Oh, Gwenny…” he murmured.

I scrubbed at my cheeks. “Is it okay to talk about books like nothing’s wrong? My whole life…Everything…” I sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I covered my face and forced in deeper breaths to recover some of my dignity.

“You’re hurting because a person you care about hurt you.”

“I’m stronger than this.”

“You’re stronger than anyone I know. And smart—”

A hoarse laugh hiccupped out of me. “And capable. And hardworking. Great. Parroting a list of my best qualities is cold comfort when my husband passed me over for someone younger and sexier and—”

“You’re beautiful.”

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

“Plenty of men think that.” When had his voice lowered to that whisper by my ear? “I think that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh,please.” I didn’t need Ian stroking my ego to feel better.

“I think you’re so beautiful, Gwen. I’ve always thought that.” I shifted my gaze, and pleading hazel eyes stared back at me, far too close. “I could show you.”

“Wha-what?”

“Let me show you.” This time, Ian’s touch was more deliberate. The drag of his fingertips left a trail of goosebumps down my arm.

I pushed my palm into his chest. “Ian, I—”

“Let me show you.”

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