She opened her door a crack and didn’t hear anything but it didn’t matter. He was still awake; she could sense it.
Too bad there wasn’t a way to heal without hurting. Too bad that working through pain sometimes hurt more than the initial injury. Taking a bracing breath, she stepped into the hall. She’d never get Luca back, but maybe there was a chance for her and Joel.
Ignoring the ache in her heart she padded down the hallway.
Time to find Joel and insist they talk now. After four long years of inaction, the urgency that propelled her forward was startling. Or maybe it was her heart finally giving her brain a kick in the butt.
She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she turned the corner into the dark living room. The couch was empty, and the light was off in the kitchen too. Turning back to the hall, she looked the opposite way from where she’d come. Joel’s door was shut tight. No light glowed from under it.
Disappointment had Lucy’s resolve slipping. She could waltz into his room, curl up next to him in bed and draw some of the comfort she so desperately needed from him. The thought of tucking herself in against his warm solid body, and resting until morning, was deeply enticing. Theycould talk in the morning, and until then, she could quiet her mind in the security of his proximity.
But two steps toward his door, she stopped. They might still be married, but they hadn’t lived a married life in years. Slipping in between his sheets wasn’t a privilege that was hers anymore.
On that very demoralizing thought, Lucy escaped back to her own bedroom, and flopped face down on her bed, crushing the sticky notes. She groaned into the mattress; the noise vibrating through her body. When she vibrated again, without her groan, she realized her phone was trapped under her stomach. Digging it out, her heart stopped dead in her chest when she saw a message from Joel.
Why are you wandering around the house in the middle of the night?
“Ohmigod, omigod, omigod!” she whisper-squealed as she pressed the back of her phone to her mouth. Her heart thundered so violently behind her rib cage it rattled her eardrums. Her anxiety made her text back.
Wasn’t me. Maybe an intruder?
Reply bubbles popped up immediately.
An intruder lurking outside my bedroom door?
Oh Lord. He’d heard her! So much for a dainty footfall.
How did you know it was me?
I could smell you through the door. Like cinnamon and vanilla.
And just like that, certain parts of her melted like honey as well.
Did you need something from me, Lucy?
She stared at the words. The simple message—that could have been interpreted so many ways—did nothing to slow her heartbeat.
What was she doing? Whatwasshe doing? And where the fuck was the staunch resolve she’d had moments ago when she was wandering the apartment looking for him? Fuckity, fuck, fuck.
Her fingers hovered over the screen. Brief. Hesitant. She took the leap.
I wanted to talk.
Her heart thudded when she didn’t immediately see text bubbles emerge.Don’t follow up with a panic text. Don’t follow up with a panic text.
Her damn fingers moved on their own accord.
And I was looking for a midnight snack.
When in doubt, behave like a teenager. She threw her phone onto the mattress and buried her head in the comforter. Immaturity was such a simple thing. When her phone buzzed a moment later, she faltered picking it up. What game was she playing? Did she want this or not? With her fear hammering in her pulse, she flipped her phone over again.
Why didn’t you just come in?
Ha, well, that was easy.
Same reason you’re texting me instead of coming down the hall and asking me yourself.
Writing bubbles appeared immediately this time, then disappeared, re-appeared, and vanished. For a full minute, silence reigned. She almost thought the conversation was done, and then a soft knock rapped her door.
