Page 96 of Manhattan Secret

Now I’m listening to his breathing, unable to look across at him yet, while my heart feels like it just got pulverized.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

He steps fully into the room, taller than he normally looks.

More imposing, that’s for sure.

I see the scowl is still very much present on his face.

He doesn’t speak but he does come closer, almost until his whole frame blocks out the glare of the TV screen.

“Did you, eh.. did you have a good day with your family?”

“Let’s go to bed, Laney.” He holds out his big hand and my heart starts to ping its agony.

I don’t want to lose him.

“Lachlan…”

His scowl triples intensity. “Goddammit. When you say my name like that I just wanna rip something apart. Let’s go to bed, Delaney. I’m tired. I’ve been hugged and kissed and cried on all damn day by my family.”

His sadness bounces off mine and I ache to bawl my eyes out.

He’s leaving tomorrow, and I’ll never see that face again.

All his family are going to miss him. I see the strain and I wonder how sad he’s feeling about missing them too.

His hand still hovers in mid-air, his darkening eyes just daring me to say one more word.

I can’t. There are no more words.

I turn off the TV, toss both the blanket and remote and get to my feet, sliding my hand into his and his fingers close around mine.

We walk through my rental house, which feels like home in just a short amount of time. Mostly because of him being in it with me. I love how he seems at home here too as he flips out lights, checks every door and window is closed with me tagging behind him.

In my room, he drops my hand only long enough to shrug out of his jacket. Then he comes for me. I brace, unsure what I expect, but all he does is begin to undress me.

He’s so gentle and meticulous, tears threaten the back of my eyelids.

I watch his blond head as he descends down to a squat, lifting one foot to discard my sock then the other. Leaving me in just bra and panties.

“You want the bathroom first?”

“You can, I’ll brush my hair.”

Okay,” he replies. Not touching me. Not kissing me.

My ears strain listening to him go through his night-time routine, I know he’s almost finished when I hear his electric toothbrush switch off.

I’m nearly bald in my angst brushing my hair.

Abandoning the brush, we clash eyes when he exits. “I got your toothbrush ready, Laney.”

The loving lilt of my name wraps around his tongue makes my heart cinch for his sweetness. “Thank you, Lachie. I won’t be a minute.”

He’s being very un-Lachie like, and I don’t know how to handle it.

It’s as though our fight earlier happened to two other people.

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