“I don’t have my truck.”
She looked at him, confused. “What do you mean? How’d you get here?”
“It’s a long story.”
She sat up and leaned forward until the numbers on the microwave came into view. “We’ve got time.”
“You have this planned out then?”
She shrugged. “I leave here at two.”
“How were you planning to get there?”
“Walking.”
“Jesus, Abby. And then, what? You and Sammy would walk back here?”
“Yes.”
“You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
Slowly, she shook her head, softening the blow with sweet, shiny eyes and a soft hand to his cheek. “This is your life, Luc. I can’t ruin your life.”
“No?” He mirrored her movement, touching the backs of his fingers against skin that was crushingly soft. “Non, mon amour?”
She put her ear back to his chest and her vigil over his heart, which was quickly breaking beyond repair.
When her breathing grew deep and regular and he was pretty sure she’d fallen asleep, he pulled away as carefully as he could, got out of bed, and dressed, shocked that she didn’t wake. He wanted to kiss her again before leaving but couldn’t risk it.
The hardest part, as he left her small nest above the Nook, was nudging Le Dog back inside and hoping he didn’t start crying or doing something else that would wake her. But it was a risk he was willing to take. Bringing the dog—or the woman—with him was not an option.
He crept down the stairs and out the back door into the cold, clear night. Above the parking lot, a single bare bulb shone, a solitary glow against the night. Nothing like the fancy streetlamps on Main Street meant for the tourists; this mean bulb was purely utilitarian. No prettiness here, nothing to distract from the dumpsters and the stink and what was possibly a puddle of vomit a few feet along the gravel drive.
He sucked it all in on a whoosh: the stench, the remorse of leaving her. A look around showed a dead downtown, cars congregated around this building, but nothing else moving. Luc didn’t want to go back into the bar. Nor did he want to call a cab or an Uber. Nobody else should be involved in what he had to do right now.
* * *
Abby woke up alone and groggy, in the half-light of her new apartment, sure that something was wrong. It took a few beats for things to click into place, but once they did, she was up and getting dressed. It was still before two, the bar downstairs audibly winding down for the night. Luc couldn’t have left that long ago, could he?
How dare he? How dare he leave when this washermission to accomplish? Le Dog got up and stretched as she pulled on her new clothing—suddenly too tight rather than freeing. At the last minute, she remembered to grab the keys she’d have to get used to carrying around. Someday. Someday this would all be normal, and then maybe she’d wish for her old life again.
Doubtful.
She patted Le Dog on the head and, after a few seconds’ hesitation on the landing, went toward the bar instead of out the back door.
Rory blinked when he saw her.
“You here to help close up, love?” he said above the loud music.
“Oh, I hadn’t—”
“That was a joke.” He paused, eyeing her closely before his eyes flicked over her shoulder. “Where’s your bloke?”
“He left.”
Rory frowned. “You give me the word, and I’ll—”
“No. I just… I need to go after him. What’s the best way?”
