She understood that too. The need to hide the grief because it felt too big to let out. Because it was terrifying to think that if the tears started falling, they might never stop.
Sitting quietly, she hoped he would bring the shoebox over to the bed. She was curious about the woman who had won his heart. Curious to learn what he’d kept as reminders.
To her disappointment, however, he set the box on the chest of drawers before heading in her direction.
When he stood next to the head of the bed, she thought he might reach for her. Reach for comfort. She instinctively sat forward. Ready to take him in her arms. Ready to offer him what solace she could.
But he didn’t reach for her. Instead, he sat down beside her. Which was when she realized there wasn’t a chair in the room. Unless one of them wanted to stand or sit on the floor, they had to share the bed.
It didn’t matter that the atmosphere inside the stuffy room was one of sadness instead of seduction. When the mattress depressed with his weight, and her hip touched his at the same time her shoulder brushed against his warm bicep, her body’s responses bypassed her brain. She became instantly,keenly, aware of him as a man.
Astheman she’d been dreaming about for months.
And the fact that he’d had a wife? It didn’t change a damn thing.
Or maybe it did.
Maybe it made himmoredesirable because it humanized him. Proved he actuallydidhave a vulnerable side. Andthatwas Cami’s true kryptonite.
She felt the warmth of him everywhere they touched. Smelled that pine trees and clean mountain air scent of him. Couldn’t drag her eyes away from the sight of his large, long-fingered hand lying atop the coverlet a mere inch from her bare thigh.
He didn’t look at her. Instead, he kept his attention straight ahead as he stretched his tan legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. He’d kicked off his flip-flops and, not for the first time, she noticed how pretty his feet were. Long and narrow, with high arches and neatly trimmed nails.
Allof Doc was pretty if she was being honest. He was just so perfectly proportioned. The kind of guy who would never suffer that middle-age spread. Never get a beer gut. Never deal with love handles.
As a woman who gained five pounds just walking by a donut shop, she couldn’t help but feel a little envious. A little envious and alotaware of how much she wanted to straddle his lap, run her fingers through his mess of damp hair, and try to take away the pain in his eyes.
The urge to kiss him was back. But it was different from before.
She was no longer hot and horny and looking to scratch an itch. She wanted toconnectto him. Share a piece of herself and, in that sharing, show him that life went on. That it could still be beautiful despite his loss.
Instead, she fisted her hands into her lap and asked quietly, “What was her name?”
His eyes lingered on her face for so long, she wondered if she had something smudged across her cheek. Then he glanced down at the inside of his wrist, and her gaze followed his to the flower inked there.
She’d noticed the tattoo before. For one thing, it was incredibly colorful compared to the curly-cue black lettering on his left forearm that read: For RL. For another thing, the flower was unmistakably feminine. Something a woman might get inked onto her hip or shoulder. Not something anyone expected to find on the body of a former Navy SEAL turned rumpled treasure hunter.
When he finally spoke, that colorful flower made perfect sense.
“Lily.” The syllables were said with such reverence her heart ached anew. Not out of jealousy. How could she possibly be jealous of a dead woman? But out of sympathy. Sympathy for a young woman who’d been taken from the world too early, and sympathy for the brokenhearted man left behind. “Her name was Lily,” he added softly and then tugged on his ear.
“You loved her very much.” It was a statement of fact.
His Adam’s apple traveled the length of his throat. “Since I was thirteen years old,” he admitted with a nod.
Thirteen.
Cami shook her head in wonder. “I can’t imagine.” When he frowned, she explained. “I mean I’ve never been in love before. So it’s hard to fathom falling in love at such a tender age.”
“You’ve never been in love before?” There was genuine surprise in his face.
It was justified, she supposed. Most people didn’t make it to their third decade without having experienced at leastonehead-over-heels tumble intoamore.
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I mean, I’ve kissed my fair share of frogs. Boy, have I.” When he rolled his eyes, she went on. “But none of them turned out to be a prince. Or even just a regular ol’ man whom I could imagine building a life with. Building a lifearound.”
When he cocked his head, she went on. “I know I come across as this ball-busting career woman. And Iam.I like practicing the law. I can’t imagine evernotdoing it. But I’ve always dreamed of being a wife and a mother too.” A shard of hurt lodged under her heart, nicking the organ with every beat. “Since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted a big family of my own. Carlotta and Ibothwanted big families. I think maybe because we were so close as siblings. We enjoyed each other so much and had so much fun together that we wanted to compound that. Like that old saying,the more the merrier.”
She picked at the edge of the comforter, finding a loose thread and pulling at it with her fingernail. That shard beneath her heart grew sharper when she admitted, “And now, with Carlotta gone, and with the relationship with my mother strained and the relationship with my father nonexistent, the longing for a family of my own is even stronger.” She swallowed convulsively. “I miss Sunday dinners and Christmas mornings, Fourth of July picnics and sitting around the firepit in the backyard.”
