Page 41 of The Thinnest Air
“I appreciate your being so candid,” I add, forcing civility into my tone. I’m not exactly pleased with the way he withheld this detail from me, but blowing up at him would serve no purpose at this point. Besides, with limited resources, I’m not exactly in a place to start burning bridges, and I’d hate to burn the wrong one. “Just wish you’d have come forward earlier.”
He doesn’t meet my gaze; he simply stands there, his hand dragging across his mouth as he widens his stance. I suppose there’s nothing more to be said.
“Anyway, I should go,” I say.
I may have given him a pass for now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be watching every move he makes, analyzing every word he breathes. I want to believe Ronan’s as good a man as he appears to be, but the truth is, all I know is that I know nothing.
And until I know something, everyone’s a suspect.
CHAPTER 17
MEREDITH
Twenty-Five Months Ago
“Do you think this is wrong? What we’re doing?” I’m seated on the passenger side of Ronan’s pickup, sipping gourmet hot cocoa from the Winterbean Café in downtown GP as we drive around the countryside on a lazy Monday morning. I’m supposed to be at yoga. He’s supposed to be at work.
“Hanging out?”
I smirk, lifting my cup to my lips. “Is that all this is?”
“Yeah,” he says, turning to me and flashing his signature disarming grin.God, I love his smile.It’s one of my favorite things in the world, I’ve decided. When I close my eyes at night, it’s one of the last things I think about lately. “I haven’t so much as touched you. Right now, we’re just two friends, hanging out.”
“If I wasn’t married, would you ... would you want to be more than friends?” I take a sip, coating my tongue in velvety liquid chocolate. My cheeks heat. Can’t remember the last time a man made me blush.
“If you weren’t married ... yes. I’d snatch you up in a heartbeat.” He cruises over a hill, one hand resting at the bottom of his steering wheel as he turns and winks.
“We’re playing with fire.”
He doesn’t answer, but I know he knows.
It started last month, after I called him in the middle of the night. Two days after that, I called him again when I saw that same car driving up and down my street, almost intentionally slow, as if it were menacing me. Andrew was gone that night, out of town for work, and Ronan came over.
I didn’t want to be alone, not with that creep out there again. Of course, by the time Ronan showed up, the car was long gone. But I was able to confirm that it was a late model Honda Accord with Utah plates.
He did a perimeter check, inside and out, and then camped out in my living room—in the dark—for hours. When I woke up he was gone, but he left a note saying everything was clear and to call him if I needed anything.
A few days after that, I bumped into him while gassing up at the Kwick Starr on Bleu Street. We chatted between pumps eight and nine for nearly an hour, both of us ignoring the passing time, and when a waiting car honked at me to move, he asked if I wanted to grab lunch. Climbing inside my car, I started the engine, contemplated his invitation, and gave him a quick nod as I moved my car to an empty parking spot.
I don’t have a lot of friends here.
Andrew plucked me out of Denver and planted me here, among his friends and colleagues and neighbors he’d known for years, neighbors who treated me like an outsider, a novelty, gossip fodder.
Andrew doesn’t see it, but I’ll never forget our first dinner party. I slaved all day in the kitchen, preparing everything myself when I could’ve easily had it catered. Two of Andrew’s neighbors’ wives, Betsy and Luellen, were in the next room, discussing me.
“Poor Erica,” Betsy said. “How can she compete with that? The girl looks like ... who’s that model ... the one that was on that TV show with her mom ... she hangs out with that Jenner girl ... she’s got blonde hair ...”
“Gigi Hadid,” Luellen said. “My daughter’s obsessed with her.”
“Yeah. She looks like freaking Gigi Hadid.” Betsy sighed, like it was a bad thing. “Erica’s beautiful, but she can’t compete with Gigi.”
Luellen clucked her tongue. “You think they’ll ever get back together? Andrew and Erica?”
“Who knows?” Betsy said without hesitation. “I feel like this is just a phase for him. She’s pretty and whatever, but there’s not much else to her. Honestly, she’s kind of boring. Must be the sex because it’s definitely not the personality. Men like ’em young these days. What I wouldn’t give for an ounce of that energy. And a perky ass.”
Luellen laughed. “You’re so bad.”
“Come on,” Betsy told her. “Dinner’s about to start. I want to watch her make a fool of herself trying to impress us. It’s so cute. She’s wearing an apron and everything. I know she’s just trying to look the part, but she looks like a little girl playing dress-up.”
