Page 52 of Almost Home
So instead, I just said, “And?”
“Do you have questions? I mean, you know the barest facts, but you don’t really know what or why or how orwho, and I just want to get all of that out of the way as soon as possible. I hate that you’ve seen this laundry list of my sins and failures, and I know next to nothing about you.”
She fiddled with her napkin in her lap, and I fought the urge to cover her hands with mine. I couldn’t reach her lap from across the table, but still. I wanted to touch her, reassure her. Words would have to do instead. “I do have questions, but you can ask me some, too.”
She loosed a frustrated huff. “Are you pretending like this doesn’t matter? That the fact that I was married has no effect on you?”
Her cheeks, neck, and chest had all turned crimson with her frustration, and the reason why finally clicked. She thought I’d be angry with her for being married, or some other nonsense. “Do you think your relationship history makes me any less interested in being here with you now?”
Some of that ire calmed, and she sat back. “I wouldn’t have said it that way, but I guess so. Yes.”
I held out my hand. She took it, looking unsure.
“We’ve both lived a lot of life in the last two decades. I care that you were married because it’s a part of who you are. It has undoubtedly played a role in what you want in the future or lessons you’ve learned. So in that regard, I care. But I don’t hold it against you.”
If anything, discovering she’d gone through the hardship of divorce made me sad. Angry, almost. When I’d seen that history, I’d wanted to murder the man who’d divorced her, even without knowing what’d happened. And I wanted to shake her now, to force her to understand that what I’d hoped for over the years more than anything else was that she was happy.
In some ways, seeing the proof that she’d been through a divorce and a slew of teaching positions before moving here and taking jobs she didn’t seem to stick with very long had hollowed me out. It didn’t mean she hadn’t been happy—Sarah had a way of finding good things in life, and I held out hope that she’d done that.
The arrogant part of me said that I could’ve made her happy. That if we’d had the chance to stay together, we could’ve made a life. And I’d stuffed that twinge of resentment down deep because it had no place between us now.
“Were you ever married?”
Her question jarred me. “No. Not even close.”
Her face fell, some part of her evidently hoping we had matching histories in that regard. “Oh. No one serious?”
How could I explain to her that no one had been close to being serious because I hadn’t let them? With the exception of the men who’d become like brothers—some closer than my own brothers—and even still, no one had known me like she had.
“No. I dated here and there, but you may have noticed I’m not exactly Mr. Charisma.”
She pressed her lips together, but I saw the smile. “Maybe.”
“It wasn’t a focus for me.” After our world fell apart and she ripped my heart out and took it with her, I didn’t want anything from anyone for a long, long time.
It didn’t escape me that just as I’d returned to Silverton, just as I’d realizedshewas here, I’d started considering something more than living and working here and setting down roots. Despite the temporary nature of her job at Saint Securities and the fact that the town had grown enough, I probably could avoid her fairly well in the future if I put my mind to it.
Instead, for the first time since before I left here, I’d started wondering about more.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Sarah
Wilder hadn’t become any more loquacious than he’d been growing up, but that only made me savor every word he shared. It wasn’t so much that he refused to speak, but he wouldn’t speak about himself.
And maybe it made me ridiculous to feel so relieved that he didn’t seem upset about my past, but I did. More so, hunger twisted through me despite the delicious dinner in front of me, all of me wishing for more information about him—what didit wasn’t a focusmean? Nothing serious? Nothingat all?
No. That couldn’t be true. Wilder wasn’t necessarily one to need companionship, I didn’t imagine, but everyone needed physical contact, love… everyone.
“You seem troubled.”
I grinned down at my plate before letting myself look up at his handsome face. “Not troubled. Just curious what that means.”
“It means just that—I wasn’t focused on having relationships. Dating. None of it.”
My heart sank. “So you were alone all this time?”
“Not in every way, but romantically? Yes.”
