Page 16 of The Weight Of Falling
The question feels bold, but it also feels rude not to answer. “About three months.”
“When did you break up?”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this line of questioning,” I say stiffly.
His eyes gleam. “Would you feel more comfortable talking about our kiss?”
“Ugh, fine. We broke up two months ago.”
“You could do better than him,” he tells me without missing a beat.
“Bobby’s a good man.”
“Bobby’s a weak man,” Joel counters.
“You don’t know him.”
“Did he give a reason why he didn’t show?” he asks.
I mumble the words to his chest, directing my gaze there because I don’t have the courage to look at his face right now. “He said he changed his mind. I think Sofia scares him.”
His hand flexes on my back. It takes him a moment to answer. “Sofia scares everyone. Even me. But that wouldn’t have stopped me from meeting you in that storeroom.”
I glance up at him then. It’s a mistake. There’s something in his eyes I can’t name. Something tight and dangerous.
“A weak man,” he repeats.
I keep quiet. I have nothing to say in Bobby’s defense, not when Joel has so ruthlessly dismantled every argument I made for him.
“I’m still curious, though,” he says. “Why did you agree to meet him?”
My shoulder hitches in a small shrug. “I don’t know. I suppose I was feeling lonely. Weddings always leave me a little sad.”
His face is carefully expressionless when he asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to get back together with him?”
“I’m sure.” I feel the bittersweet ache in my chest spread. “I guess I just wanted someone to look at me the way Aaron looks at Tess and the way Gideon can’t take his eyes off Kate. I thought I could find it with Bobby, but I was wrong.”
Discomfort flickers across his face before he quickly blanks his expression.
That tiny, emotional reveal makes my throat tighten and I stare at the pulse beating in the hollow of his throat, wishing I could rewind time and snatch back my confession. What is wrong with me? Why would I tell him that?
And when is this dance going to end? If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect that Kate somehow organized for the song to play on a loop.
“Why didn’t you photograph Kate’s wedding?” I ask suddenly.
“I didn’t want to,” Joel answers after a telling pause. “I’d rather be here as a guest and enjoy the wedding.”
It’s a simple enough answer, but I also know he once liked Kate. That he’d asked her out and she turned him down. Now I can’t help but wonder if that’s the real reason he didn’t wantto be the official photographer for her wedding. Maybe it would hurt too much.
The thought causes an odd stab of jealousy in my midsection. Which shocks me. I have no reason to feel jealous.
We’re now swaying in a way that feels more like breathing than dancing, the dance floor gleaming beneath our feet. Joel moves his head slightly, and the overhead lights catch the faint scar on his cheekbone. My eyes linger there. It should detract from his looks. Somehow, it only makes him more handsome. I want to ask what happened, but it feels like a brazen question. And I’ve done more than my share of brazen things today.
Mercifully, the music ends. Joel releases my hand, and we step back quickly from one another, like we’ve both just remembered we’re not alone.
Applause breaks out around us, a blur of hands and smiles. Someone whistles. I barely register it. I glance over at Kate. She’s watching me with a soft smile, like she sees something I haven’t figured out yet.
I force a smile back, but all I want is to get off the dance floor and find somewhere to breathe.
