Page 71 of Everything We Left Behind

James thinks of the engagement ring in his suitcase, which he’ll probably transfer to his pocket after he showers and changes. He thinks of his sons eating in the kitchen and how this woman beside him offered to help bring them all together.

“Yes, I want to stay.”

“Excellent,” she says, smiling. “Though you might change your mind when Dad arrives.”

“Have we met yet?”

“Once. At your wedding.”

His stomach drops and his mind jumps to Aimee and the wedding they never had. Instead, she spent that special day they’d reserved on their calendar for almost a year at his funeral and burial. Then he remembers Carlos married Raquel.

“What happened at the wedding?” There wasn’t much information in the journals. At that time, Carlos hadn’t been writing as though the journals were a life preserver.

“Well ...” Natalya rubs her hands and stands. She picks up Marc’s backpack and pulls out his books. She stacks them on the coffee table. “Dad’s a womanizer and he was harassing Imelda, the woman you were told was your sister,” she adds when he frowns. “He wasn’t being too obnoxious. But she was annoyed, so you clocked him.”

James’s brows shoot to his hairline.

Natalya unzips each pocket. She shoves her hand inside and adds whatever she finds to the growing pile on the coffee table. “When you were Carlos, it didn’t take much to get you fired up. You were a very physical man.”

She ducks her head and the loose bun comes undone. Her hair falls forward, obscuring her face, but not fast enough. James caught the blush tingeing her cheeks. She’s embarrassed; nervous, too, judging by the way she’s searched each pocket more than once.

James stands and takes the pack. He wants to tell her she doesn’t have to be nervous around him, but she looks so darn uncomfortable that he’s concerned he may spook her and she’ll retreat behind her cold front again.

He sets the backpack aside. “I take it your dad doesn’t like me very much.”

“Not really.”

For some reason, the admission makes him laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

He laughs harder. He wipes the corners of his eyes. “Oh God. I can’t tell you how good it is to hear I’m not the only one with a screwed-up family. Here I thought you were perfect.” His tone is light and teasing.

“Well ... heisyour father-in-law.”

His eyes bug. “Good point. Don’t worry about him, though. I’ll do what I can to make amends. God knows what that’ll be.”

“Just be yourself. He’ll like you.”

He fights a smile as he looks down at her. He catches the scent of her lotion Carlos wrote about more than once. Warmth coils inside him as he breathes her in and his pulse quickens.

“And James?”

“Hmm?” he asks, his gaze transfixed on the line of her collarbone that disappears under her shirt’s neckline. He has the urge to kiss the dip between that bone and her shoulder.

“You stink.”

“Oh jeez. I ran twelve miles today.” His face heats. He chuckles and moves back, circling to the opposite side of the table.

“Is that for me?” She gestures at the coffee.

“Yes. I picked them up at the roasters a couple of blocks from here.” He gives her a cup.

She lifts the lid, blows across the top, and takes a cautious sip. Her eyes open wider. “How did you know the way I like my coffee?”

“It’s your favorite, right?” A touch of coconut milk with a shot of macadamia-nut syrup.

“Yes, but ...” She traces a finger around the lip, looking uncomfortable. He can tell she’s thinking about Carlos’s journals. Maybe he shouldn’t make it obvious abouthow muchhe knows about her. The situation between them is already weird enough as it is.

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