Page 79 of Defensive Desire

She walks past me, towel tucked under her arm, wearing leggings and a long sweatshirt. To my surprise, she leans up on her toes and kisses my cheek like everything’s fine.

I watch Emma as she moves around the bedroom, getting dressed with quick, efficient movements.

Something still feels off, but I can't put my finger on it.

"So," she says suddenly, voice too bright, "I was thinking about the Arena Experience Day. We should finalize the book list for the kids' story time when we get back."

I frown. "The book list? You're thinking about that now?"

"Well, yes. But I'm second-guessing some of my choices." She pulls a brush through her hair, not meeting my eyes in the mirror. "And I need to order those custom jerseys we talked about."

"Emma—"

"Oh, and remind me to call Sophia about the setup for the hot chocolate station. I want to make sure we have enough space for both that and the book display."

I step closer, confused by this sudden business focus. Is this her way of pretending everything is fine? When it's clearly not.

"Hey, slow down. We've still got two days here. The competition isn't until next week."

Emma nods too quickly. "I know, I know. I just... want to be prepared. This space could really change things for me, Logan."

She finally looks at me, but her eyes slide away almost immediately.

"And I should probably check in with Lucy again. About the café. Make sure everything's running smoothly."

I reach for her hand, stopping her nervous fidgeting.

"Emma, what's going on? Ten minutes ago you were practically catatonic in the shower, and now you're running through a business checklist like we're heading back tomorrow."

"Nothing's going on," she says with a forced laugh. "I just need to stay focused. That's all. The shower helped me remember some things I need to take care of."

"In the middle of our getaway? The getaway you were excited about less than twenty-four hours ago?"

She pulls her hand away, busying herself with folding the towel. "People can multitask, Logan. My business doesn't stop just because—"

"Because what?"

I step closer, watching Emma's face carefully. The bathroom steam has left a dewy sheen on her skin, but something's changed in her eyes. They're distant now, clouded over like the sky before a storm.

"Because what?" I repeat, softer this time, reaching for her hand.

She looks up at me, and my chest tightens. The warmth in those golden depths is gone. That sparkle that's been there since our first night together, the one that made me feel like maybe I wasn't such a lost cause after all.

Instead, she's looking at me the way she looks at Mr. Harrow when he comes in for his daily americano. Like I'm just another customer. Just another guy who walks through her door.

"Because we're here," she finishes flatly. "That's all I was going to say."

I drop my hand, feeling the distance between us expand like ice cracking across a lake.

“C’mon,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. “Aren’t we supposed to be catching fish and slapping pucks with beer in hand?”

I blink, thrown by this weird shift in mood.

“Sure.”

This morning she looked like she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Now she’s cheerleading the idea of outdoor sports.

Yeah. Something’s not right.

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