Page 47 of Danger Close
“I can make you waffles, too if that’s more to your taste.” She floated through the kitchen to a small glass French press. “Coffee? Mack likes his strong, so this French press has been a God send.”
“Yes, please.” I needed caffeine. I’d tossed and turned all night, my skin longing for the man I’d once called husband.
Time is fleeting. I’d like to spend some of it–in fact, a lot of it–with you.
His words repeated in my mind like a much beloved melody.
Charlotte poured coffee into a ceramic red mug with deer antlers. She offered sugar and milk, and I took both. Mostly because I did not actually like coffee. I was a tea drinker. Having enough milk and sugar to disguise the taste of the bean helped me chug it down.
“We also have biscuits and grits,” Charlotte smiled. “I didn’t know what you liked.”
“I’m not picky,” I accepted the plate. “Anything that I do not have to cook myself will be delicious.”
“I hear that!” her husband, Mack, said as he opened the sliding door to the yard, his old German Shepherd following behind him. He took a seat at the large wooden farm table.
If this was an indication of Trinity’s future, then she was in good hands.
“I can’t wait until we have that vegetable garden,” Charlotte said, as she heaped a healthy serving onto my plate. Then she winked at her husband. “Maybe I can get you to eat a salad.”
I left them alone after breakfast, washing my plate in the sink. Charlotte got me for lunch as well, and they were cordial. All the while I stared out the window towards the cabin, hoping for a glimpse of Trinity.
By the time dinner came, they were expecting guests. The same crowd who had not wanted me last night. I excused myself, citing a headache and general fatigue. I didn’t need to go through that again.
But, like a glutton for punishment, I listened at the bedroom door, drinking in every word, every joke.
I wanted to embrace her—what mother would not? But I stayed hidden.
I listened to them outside, laughing, talking about the wedding, the honeymoon. They teased the young couple. My heart clenched, wishing I could be out there, but I knew the moment Trinity saw me, the mood would change.
Her joy would whither like a poisoned fruit.
When I’d had enough, I went to bed, curling into a ball. I held my empty stomach, starving for affection far more than food. I must have slept, because I opened my eyes to the sound of a familiar footfall which halted outside my door, followed by a quiet knock.
“Teri?” Cobra said through the heavy wood before the doorknob turned and the door squeaked open.
A sliver of light washed in, cutting me in half across the bed. I could feel his eyes travel over my skin, caressing over me, fueling my desire to be held and loved.
I heard his boots shuffling into the room as he whispered, “Princess?”
I used to love that nickname. Now, it felt like a taunt. I had ceased to be the princess, and as Greg said, I was the evil stepmother in the fairytale.
My heart ached for him to hold me as he had last night, but I knew that it wasn’t my place. I couldn’t ask for his affection while pushing him away.
“Hmm?” I tried to sound like I was halfway to sleep, so I didn’t just look like I was hiding in my room.
“Are you okay?” His voice sounded tight. “Let me start the fire for you. I know you don’t like being cold.”
That was thoughtful. Really considerate. So considerate that my chest tightened.
“Baby?” he called, as I heard the click of a lighter, then the soft hum of a fire starting. “Are you okay? Charlotte said you didn’t eat dinner. She looked concerned.”
Was she? Or was he just being kind by telling me that?
“I’m just tired,” I responded curtly, keeping my back to him as I pretended to sleep. “I have a headache.”
The crackle of the fire got louder, and the voices outside continued to chatter, completely oblivious to the tension in this small room.
“What’s going on?” His tenderness was killing me. I hated how concerned he sounded. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
