“It sounds beautiful.”
“It was.” His voice went rough again. His eyes focused on some point she couldn’t see. “So beautiful, in fact, that she told Sarah’s biological father all about it in a letter one of the many times she wrote to that bastard, trying to get Brandon to acknowledge their daughter.” His gaze returned to Erin again. “I told you he’s been in jail since before I metLiv? He’s some kind of computer genius who, as Liv said, never ‘lived up to his potential.’”
“Liv sounds like an amazing person.”
“Yeah. But some days, it’s hard to forgive her for talking to the waste-of-space felon. He’s the reason she’s dead. He told his cell mate all about our house.” Remy squeezed her hand hard. Not in a bad way. But she wondered if he realized it. Her heart hurt for him. “The cell mate targeted our home for a robbery after he got out of prison two months later. He shot her in the studio where she was working. I kept that place until the trial was done and knew he was in jail for life. Then I burned the studio to the ground before I sold the main house.”
She gasped. “Were you living there all that time?”
“Hell no. I moved Sarah to Miami to start over right afterward. I only went back for the trial to make sure the guy and his accomplice went to jail. Then I torched the place where they ended her life and ruined mine.”
The image of this caring, charming man setting fire to the building where his wife was murdered tore at her.
“It’s no wonder you’re still grieving.” What a horrible, horrible loss for him. “Her death was a shock and you probably couldn’t begin mourning her until after the trial.”
“All I thought about was revenge for a while. I wanted to kill him myself.” He let go of her hand and found his wineglass. Taking a long swallow, he glanced over at her, waiting to see her reaction.
“I’m sure you did.” Who wouldn’t in his position?
“But I had Sarah to think about.” He nodded slowly. “And the last thing I wanted was for my girl to have two fathers in jail.”
“You’re a good man.” She watched the fireflies comeout as the sun sank lower on the horizon. “Sarah is lucky to have you.”
“I don’t know about that. I became all kinds of overprotective. Sarah’s counselor had to step in and tell me to cool it.” He balanced the wineglass on his knee. “I’m finding it tough to figure out how to parent in a scary world.”
“So whatever happened to Sarah’s dad? Was he accountable in any way for sharing that information with another felon?”
“Of course not. I wanted Brandon in solitary confinement for the rest of his life, but I couldn’t even get his cable television stations taken away.” He set aside the wine and turned to face her on the love seat. “But in the months where I was consumed with justice, my career started to go south, the host of my top show quit, and Sarah began sneaking out at night since I hardly let her out of my sight during the day. I had to let go of some of the anger to move on. So here I am, ruining your nice dinner and repaying your kindness with maudlin stories that I normally never share.”
“Maybe it’s easier to talk to people who weren’t involved.” She found herself fidgeting and forced herself to stop. What was it about him that had her so on edge?
Her foremost feelings right now should be empathy and compassion. It bugged her that compassion and attraction were tied for first place, especially after all he’d told her.
“That’s no excuse for being a bad guest.”
“You brought lemon-berry cupcakes and wine, so you actually rate pretty well on my guest meter.”
“Clearly, you’ve kept some questionable company.”
No kidding.
“I’m much better at fixing other people’s lives than figuringout my own.”
He searched her eyes for a long moment, the candles he’d lit flickering overhead.
“How about you let me salvage the steaks to make it up to you?”
She appreciated him steering them back to less personal terrain.
“I’d never say no to having a man cook for me.” She rose to her feet and forced herself to think about dinner instead of flirting. She’d been all wrong to consider acting on what she felt for him. Remy was still in the early stages of grieving. “Besides, if you can handle the steaks, I’ll finish up the salad.”
Deal struck—and some much needed distance gained—Erin retreated into the house and pulled the veggies out of the refrigerator. Rinsing and chopping, she could only imagine what Remy must think of her for inviting him here tonight when he was still dealing with so many feelings for his wife. He hadn’t moved on. Who knew when he would be ready to think about taking that step?
The best she could salvage from this tense date was the satisfaction of having reached out to a friend in a way she hadn’t been able to for the past six months. If nothing else, meeting Remy had proved to her shecouldforget about Patrick and maybe even fall for someone again. But that someone wouldn’t be Remy. For that matter, caring about a man like him could be hazardous to her heart. She’d been able to put Patrick behind her because he was innately an unworthy man.
Remy, on the hand, was as worthy as they came. A good father and devoted husband.
Six months ago, she had been afraid men like him didn’t exist. How ironic that now—when she was finally readyto move on—she met a loyal guy still very much in love with his wife.
