Page 92 of Protect Me
The bag crackled as she set it on the counter. I closed my eyes, breathing deep of her hair. Flowery shampoo, combined with . . . cotton. Dear heavens, did she throw our laundry in together again? I walked around for days, smelling parts of her on my shirt and almost dying every time. I sincerely hope she kept it up.
Her palms splayed across my back. She pulled away slightly, concern in her furrowed eyes.
“You okay, Vik?”
“Yep.” I pushed away, hands on her shoulder. A smile surfaced to save me at the last second. “Just glad to see you.”
“That’s good to hear. I brought some sushi. Sounded good, and I know spicy is your favorite flavor. Can you take a lunch break, or have I missed it? Sorry if this is a problem, I just wanted to surprise you and . . . chat. You’re always feeding me.”
I put my hand on her arm and pulled her close. “Hey, Dan!” I called over her shoulder. “Going to lunch. Be back in thirty.”
He waved from his desk, where he leaned so far back the chair threatened to tip. I swiped the bag and led her toward the door, relief unbraiding through my chest. I needed to get out of here, and I needed more of Kate.
“Let’s eat outside.”
A picnic table under a sprawling oak tree lay empty outside the store. Bird poop littered the far side, and the paint peeled in brown chunks off the edges of the board, but it would be a perfect escape from Emma. From inside.
From myself.
I set the bag of sushi down as Kate settled across from me. She tilted her hat back. Her designer glasses were gone yet again, leaving her eyes as open oases. She wore my favorite pair of jeans and a bright yellow tank top. Most days, she fluttered around in simple summer dresses that exposed her tanned legs and strong ankles. They made me want to run my fingers around her knee while we watched movies together, carefully apart, but near.
The hell with that.
With Emma and all her memories kicked to the metaphorical curb, it was time to take this to the next level—after Kate said whatever she came to say. A gentle skein of silence passed while we set out our lunch. Kate kept chewing on her bottom lip, start-stopping, but never speaking.
“I just saw an old . . . acquaintance,” I said to spare her whatever mental agony she might put herself through. Fear she was about to send me packing put a knot in my stomach. For all I knew, my advance yesterday would be rejected.
Theonetime it mattered.
She perked up, seeming relieved for a subject.
“Oh?”
She used a chopstick to separate a chunk of wasabi, then reached for a soy sauce packet. A California roll. The girl had always been so predictable.
Wait, no.
Not anymore. Kate surprised me every day, just not with her sushi order.
“Her name was Emma Goldmann, not sure if she’s married or not at this point. She left the store just before you made yourself known.”
Kate stiffened, then relaxed. “The name is familiar,” she murmured. I popped the end of my roll inside my mouth and chewed. Soft and perfectly spicy, the hint of sriracha mayo a gentle bloom in my mouth.
“She was my first kiss.”
Kate brightened. “Oh?”
I nodded, the story unraveling more easily than I expected. “Yeah, at fifteen, or something. We went on dates, hung out, that sort of thing. She called me her boyfriend, I did anything she wanted. I was totally enraptured with her and couldn’t believe she’d give me the time of day.”
Kate’s chopsticks paused, stuck in the wasabi-soy mixture as she listened, mouth slightly open. “I vaguely remember her,” she murmured, lashes lowering in thought. “Blonde hair?”
“Yep. Led the debate team, and controlled the whole school social ecosystem.”
Kate snorted. “Mmm, yes. I definitely remember.”
“Anyway, I asked her to prom, she said yes. Again, I couldn’t believe it was true. She wasn’t home when I showed up to get her. Her mother said she’d already left, which seemed weird.”
“Uh oh,” she murmured.
