“I hate that I keep thinking about his mouth.”
“Sure.”
“And the way he—ugh,damn it.”
Liara bursts out laughing.
I toss a throw pillow at her. “You’re not helping.”
“I’m nottryingto help,” she says, dodging it. “I’m here to bear witness to your descent into orc-related chaos. It’s more fun than reality TV.”
I drain half my coffee in one go.
Liara sobers. “Look. Maybe he panicked. Maybe he thought you’d want space. Maybe he’s a damn idiot. But that kiss? The way he watches you? That is not a man who’s just looking for a notch.”
I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have todoanything right now,” she says. “But if he comes back, maybe don’t greet him with a flaming dagger of judgment.”
I snort. “No promises.”
She stands. “You’re not broken, Ro. You’re just scared.”
I walk her to the door, watching her step out into the cool gray morning. Gulls scream in the distance. The sea smells restless again.
I close the door behind her and lean against it.
The bed’s still cold upstairs.
But my body remembers every inch of him.
And worse—so does my heart.
Jamie notices, of course.
He always does.
That night, after dinner—mac and cheese with too much garlic because I forgot how to measure—I’m washing dishes when he wanders into the kitchen with his notebook under one arm and his cardboard lighthouse dragging behind him.
“Mom?”
I glance down. “Yeah, buddy?”
“You’re being quiet.”
I force a smile. “Just tired, baby.”
He frowns. “Are you sad?”
“No.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re lying.”
I sigh. “Maybe a little.”
He shuffles closer and leans into my side. “Is it because of the green giant?”
My heart stumbles. “What?”