“Warner? Come on.”
I wait with others for the signal to go, and long enough for my personal nut-ball to catch up with me. I must have been a really bad person in a past life to pay for it like I am in this life. Karma has a name. I just didn’t know it until I met Delaney.
“I’m sorry,” she says, pressing against my side.
I finally look at her. “Why are you doing this, Delaney?”
“Doing what?” She comes around to stand in front of me while everyone else is crossing. “Trying to care for you? You always made it so difficult.” Throwing her arms out wide, she says, “You act like it’s a crime.” Turning on her heel, she storms forward.
I hear the car before I have time to look.
Grabbing Delaney, I wrap my left arm around her as I use my casted arm to pull her against me in a rush and ending in a thud. Her scream was silent but ripped the air from her lungs. My breath is ragged, but I hold her tightly to me and maneuver out of the crosswalk.
Against the busy path of the sidewalk, I lean my shoulder against a brick wall. Closing my eyes, I drop my head to the top of hers as the reality of what almost happened sets in. “Are you okay?” I whisper while the scent of my shampoo,of me, fragrances her hair.
With her body melding to mine, she turns in my arms, keeping her head tucked to my chest. “No.” Only the one word is said, but as her shoulders rattle with a quiet sniffle, I realize her emotions are laid bare.
The carefree spirit of this woman I hardly know has been shaken. That’s how fast our security can be ripped away. One step too late and our lives are forever changed.Like now. I’ve become desperate to console her, so I slow my breath to assuage my racing pulse because I’m no good to her if I can’t calm her fears. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
She nods her head and then looks up at me. “You saved me, Warner.”
The praise feels unearned somehow. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Taking a step, she slips from my arms to lean her back against the brick wall. Her breathing is still unregulated, but her emotions have quelled. When she looks over at me, her smile seems to come naturally. “Seems I’m in your debt.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, chuckling. “I won’t hold it over you.” This, whateverthisis we’re doing, feels too good to be real. No tension. No distrust. No questioning what we are or aren’t. We’re just two people sharing a laugh.
I know that’s not all it is, but at this moment, it feels too good to mess it up with wild accusations. I’m tired of the back-and-forth. The woman’s wearing a ring on her finger, for Pete’s sake. What kind of lunatic would go to those lengths to trick me into believing I’m married? No one. Nobody would do that. What would there be to gain? I would never marry without a prenup in place.
Oh shit. A prenup.
That’s it!
I need to call my attorney.
I reach for my pocket, but I still don’t have a phone. She helped me look for it, but neither of us found it.Still.So fucking annoying. Since we’re only a block from my office, I nod to signal to go. She joins my side as we walk down the sidewalk away from the crosswalk. In the shadows of the buildings, it’s cooler with some wind gusting past us. She wraps her arms around herself and then says, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
With a laugh and a shoulder nudge to my arm, she says, “You know what. For saving me back there.”
“We don’t have to put that much weight on it. Anyone would have done the same.”
“Not true.” Her smile falls as her gaze redirects ahead. “Some would stand there and debate for a good solid minute if I were worth saving and then worry that they made things worse by waiting too long to help.”
I stop on the sidewalk, watching her walk ahead. “What?”
She glances back and then stops. It appears to take all her effort to reorganize her expression to make a smile reappear. She blinks twice and then replies, “Just saying what could have happened, not that it did. You grabbed me before I made a fatal mistake. My point is that not everyone would have helped.” Raising her arm out of upset, she continues, “Most people would rather stand around and film someone than help.” Her stance relaxes as her grin returns. “But not you. You jumped in to save me without thinking.” Walking back to me, she gets so close to me that I must look down to see her eyes. With her hands placed on my chest with care, she swallows. Even on the loud streets of Manhattan, it’s heard, but I don’t point it out, refusing to embarrass her. “I didn’t think there was any hope that you were inherently good beneath that asshole exterior. I’m so glad to be wrong.”
Not sure what to say to that, I reply, “Thank you. I guess.”
We start to stroll again. This time, our pace is a little slower, the company not as maddening as usual. We round the corner and walk to the middle of the block, stop in front of the doors, and then look at each other. She asks, “Why did you bring me to your office?”
A subtle ribbon of offense passes through her words. “I need to check on something.”
“What?”
She’s starting to sound like a wife. My father told me to never marry. Not to keep me from a broken heart but to save me from being nagged. My mother barely spoke to him, so I always wondered if he was referring to a girlfriend he had on the side. I spent years studying couples I was around to understand what marriage is supposed to be like, versus the version I was shown. What I found was the same wherever I would go.
