Page 5 of Six Month Wife
Of course he has the audacity to look even better the second time around. Somehow, in a matter of minutes, his jaw looks sharper, the scruff is peak stubble, and those crystal-blue eyes are even clearer.
The exact type of man I should avoid for self-preservation.
“Out of curiosity,” he says casually. “You ever spend any time in Miami?”
“Miami?” I repeat, instantly on alert. “I travel a lot. Why?”
One corner of his mouth lifts in that maddening, I-know-something-you-don’t way. The same one as earlier.
“Just wondering,” he says lightly, tapping on the door frame. “You look like someone. I don't know, never mind. Sorry to bother you.”
“Don’t make me pull out my Mama Bear again,” I laugh, deflecting, trying to make up for my earlier snark.
“I like the attitude. It becomes you.” He smiles, pushes off the wall, and slips back toward the hall.
I scoff and try to play it cool, even though the frog in my throat is anything but cool.
“I make sure my attitude leaves an impression wherever I go,” I yell after him like a doofus.
“No doubt about that,” he says over his shoulder as he walks away.
The soft padding of his sneakers fades, but my pulse doesn’t.
Okay, so maybe I’m staring at the empty doorway, hoping he'll glance back. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, why would he?
But I keep looking, regardless.
I shake my head, trying to clear the nagging feeling that maybe Idoknow him from somewhere. Could it be Miami? If it was him,thatnight, surely he’d say something, right?
No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t be here, in Palm Beach.
But the memory rises fast. A tide I didn’t see coming. Sticky air, a pulsing bass, the way his hand slid up my thigh.
And then nothing. No name. Just flashes, synced to the throb of the music playing outside my hotel window.
One summer night, a live band with forgettable songs, and a man whose hands moved in a way that was anything but forgettable.
I don’t remember much from that night. But I remember those hands.
I swallow hard, forcing the thought back down.
No way that’s him.
The nurse rushes past me as she leaves. "I'll be right back with your discharge paperwork."
Jenna shoots me a look as soon as the nurse is gone. “Something you’re not telling me, Addy?”
“What? No, of course not,” I snort, waving it off. I never told her about that random hook-up. Because it was just that, random and a one-off.
She squints at me. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“It’s hot in here.”
“Addy...." She's not letting this go.
