“Jason MacAuliffe.” They shook hands, weighing their grip.
“Mikes said you were a marquess.”
“An earl,” Jace reluctantly admitted, and cast a glance to where she still hid behind Waters when she bit back a despairing squeak.
“Nice,” Kris said ambiguously, withdrawing his hand, and Jace turned next to Mikah, but she just pivoted around Waters’s back. She pulled a key from her pocket and opened the door without a word to either of them. She disappeared inside, leaving them standing in the hall.
“This is beyond fascinating.”
Jace and Waters both turned to the neighbor, taking in her wide-eyed stare. “So glad you approve, Marci,” Waters said good-naturedly and turned back to Mikah’s door.
At least the door was ajar, Jace thought. She might could’ve locked them both out. Waters seemed to think the same thing, given the grin he flashed as he pushed the door open and waved Jace inside. He entered but waited at the door as Waters turned on the lights. The loft space was very open but empty of the woman he sought. The kitchen, dining area, and living room all were within easy sight from the door. There were only three other doors. One next to him Jace presumed was a closet, another open with a bathroom beyond. And one tightly closed at the far end of the room.
The avenue of Mikah’s escape. “Shouldn’t you…?” He nodded toward the door.
“She’ll be fine.” Waters shrugged. “Just give her a minute. I think you scared the shit out of her back there. Just like you did in Scotland.”
It was a hint, a blatant invitation for Jace to say something. There were many things he wanted to say, but Jace had no idea what this man, his rival, was thinking. He had to wonder at his welcome. Was this Kris Waters so sure of Mikah’s affections that he didn’t fear losing her?
Even if the other man did not, Jace did. While he’d thought to stay away to allow Mikah her happiness, there was a part of him that feared she wouldn’t choose him. Why would she forsake a man with whom she already had a relationship with for one borne from what was little more than a fantastic delusion? He couldn’t blame her if she did.
“How did you hurt your leg?”
Jace threw him a curious glance. “Afghanistan.”
“Recently?”
“Aye.”
Shifting uncomfortably, Jace let his eyes wander around the flat, trying to place his Hero in it. The place was modern and sparse but earthy. Most of the décor had elements of nature—dark, rough woods, finishes of worn metals—and all the furnishings had long, low silhouettes. It was simple and clean. There was Hero in that, at least.
By a large bank of windows stood a Christmas tree, which was sadly decorated.
Following his eyes, Kris told him as he took off his coat and hung it on a stand near the door, “Mikes wasn’t even going to put one up. I practically had to force her. Take off your coat and have a seat if you like. Would you like some wine?”
“Thank you,” Jace said as he shed his outer coat and after a moment’s hesitation, propped his cane against the wall. Wincing at the pain but determined not to show weakness, he moved farther into the loft. Hero was evident in the art pieces that dominated the few wall spaces available. But no landscapes here. The pieces were abstract but whimsical. One or two were decidedly dark in nature. He turned around the room, taking it all in.
Despite all the furnishings, the room felt odd. It reeked of neglect, perhaps.
Or loneliness.
As sad as it was, the latter brought him a tiny ray of hope.
A hope that wouldn’t last if Mikah chose not to make an appearance.
The silence grew heavy and Jace felt compelled to make some conversation. “Your neighbor—Marci—said she didn’t think you’d be back until much later. I’d forgotten it is New Year’s Eve and was about to leave.”
“Mikah didn’t want to stay at the party. I knew that before we even left, but thought it was worth a shot.” The words were informative, but they also left Jace wondering. Combined with what the neighbor said and that sorry little tree, a picture was being painted of an unhappy life. One at odds with Smith’s description of a happy couple.
“Sit if you like.”
“I’ll stand.”
Waters spoke again from the kitchen area as he poured two glasses of wine and recorked the bottle. “You don’t seem surprised to find me here.”
“Nor did you seem surprised to see me. Mikah did however,” Jace returned quietly as Waters handed him a glass of wine. If he expected a response to that, he was to be disappointed. Before the silence became uncomfortable, he added, “But, you are correct, Smith told me about you.”
“Yeah? What did he say?” Waters asked, raising his own glass to his lips.
