Page 75 of Masquerade

He covered her hands with his, rubbing them to take away the chill. “George and I haven’t given you any free time, have we?”

“I signed up for the duration,” she insisted, but her head was bent. “This was a prior agreement I didn’t expect to be a problem.”

“I’ll miss you.” He kissed her temple, waiting for an invitation to join her at the cottage for some of the weekend. When it didn’t come, the sensation he’d taken a wrong turn hit deep and low. “Are we okay?”

“We’re fine.” She jerked backwards, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Somewhere in our ground rules we agreed that if we changed our minds, we’d tell the truth.” Giving her space—physical and emotional—to give him her verdict cost him. A line from a Mental as Anything song popped into his head—if you leave me, can I come too?

“I’m behind on a commitment I made,” she answered carefully. “That’s all this is.”

Her answer made sense, but it smelled wrong. He forced a smile and saw an echo of it in her eyes. “Maybe I can join you?” Only half a joke.

“That would be great, but I’m crunched for time.” She glanced away. “You’re a distraction, and I can’t afford any distractions.”

“I wasn’t serious.” But he had been. Work was already part of their shared routine; he knew how to leave her in peace when she needed to focus.

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Aringing phone wokethem at five-thirty the next morning. Liam stirred, groaned, then rolled out of bed to collect it and move into the kitchen. Resignation followed annoyance when he registered the name of the journalist calling. Kate ambled after him. She’d donned one of his old T-shirts again. Seeing her in his shirt reassured the dumb man in him who wanted to beg her not to go.

She skipped around him, evading his hand to start filling the coffee machine. She waved at him and pointed to the machine.

Please, he mouthed.

“Talk to Clelland’s PR person if you want an interview,” he grunted. “During business hours. You’ll get nothing if you call at this hour.”

“It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?” she asked, when he ended the call.

“The worst should be over in a few days. They’ll move on to some other topic.” He accepted the coffee and took the opportunity to wrap her in his free arm, his hand finding her bare backside under the wash-shrunken tee. “Try to miss me.”

* * *

Kate slipped into Clelland’slobby at six, hoping to catch Liam before he left.

She’d missed him. She loved him—missed him, loved him, missed him. The refrain was stuck on a loop in her head. Missing him had started the second she’d joined the expressway north on Thursday. A hollow sensation which became a gaping hole as the days passed.

Liam had called each night to check she was eating.

“You haven’t taken your cooks with you.” He’d been referring to himself and Anna.

“I can manage eggs,” she’d replied.

“You manage, and I’ll talk.” He rang off after thirty minutes, an endearing rule he’d instigated so he wouldn’t distract her from her work. They talked about the case, about his garden and hers, uncomplicated conversations she waited for and replayed in her head as a lullaby later.

“Tony’s missing you,” he’d said last night. “He tells me every time I go in.”

“How often have you been in?”

“Twice since Thursday.” Liam had been unrepentant, and Kate had been charmed.

“I’ll be home tomorrow, probably late,” she’d said. Another mini deception, evidence they both wore their caution like chain mail.

She’d worked all Sunday night, pressed the send button for her editor just after dawn, grabbed a few hours’ sleep and packed up midafternoon. The result of all their talking, missing and forgiving was the perception that she was ready to risk her heart.

She’d workshopped a gazillion scenarios about how and when to ask for a renegotiation of their ground rules. In her head, she tested them again.

How do you feel about changing our ground rules?

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