I notice the fine lines at the corners of Lane's eyes, the way her hands still shake slightly from the interview. The familiar gestures of a woman I once knew better than myself.
"You okay?" I step closer, drawn by something I can't name.
She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just processing. That was intense. I've never told you, but I'm grateful you helped Sanders that first morning and made this happen. I'm really so grateful to be doing this with him. With you."
"You don't have to thank me. You both were amazing out there." My voice comes out low, almost sultry. I didn't intend for it, but as the electricity and emotion of the moment shoot through my body, I'm no longer in control.
Her eyes flick up to mine, almost startled. An electric pulse passes between us, a current that started last night before we both chickened out. I'm not letting it pass by me this time.
I move before I can think better of it, before I can remember all the reasons I shouldn't. One step, then another, closing the space between us.
When my mouth meets hers, everything falls away—the studio, the years, the hurt. Her lips are softer than I remembered, warm and yieldingbeneath mine.
Her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens, and I taste mint and something uniquely Lane, familiar even after all this time.
My hand finds the small of her back, fitting perfectly in the curve there. Years of restraint shatter in one blinding moment of contact.
Fuck. Jerry. I forgot about Jerry. I pull away, but stay so close I can feel her breath on my lips. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't?—"
Footsteps echo suddenly from the corridor. "Has anyone seen George? We need him in makeup!"
We spring apart. Lane's hand flies to her mouth, her eyes wide. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. Her cheeks flush scarlet as she takes one step back, then another.
The anonymous footsteps disappear, growing fainter with each click.
"We should—" She stops, swallows. "The kids will be wondering where we are."
A polite, practiced smile slides across her face like armor. Her hands still tremble as she smooths her blouse, turns away.
I follow Lane down the hallway, the ghost of her touch still burning on my skin. My mind spins. What the hell was I thinking? One unguarded moment, and I've erased seven years of careful distance.
The GMA greenroom door stands open. Sanders's voice rises above the others, rapid-fire with excitement. I pause, watching Lane square her shoulders before entering. The practiced smile she gives our son doesn't reach her eyes.
"Ms. Lara said we were naturals!" Sanders bounces on his heels, gesturing wildly as I step inside. "Dad, you should have seen the control room! There were like a million screens! Actually."
Luke nods beside him, his thin face animated despite the exhaustion that shadows his eyes. "And buttons! They let us press some."
"Not the important ones," Leigh corrects, chin high. "But Lara showed us the real anchor desk. The one they use for the real show."
Carly rolls her eyes, affection softening the gesture. "According to Leigh, she's co-hosting tomorrow."
I laugh, grateful for the diversion. The casual banter barely conceals the unspoken tension, which electrifies the room. Lane sits perched on the edge of the sofa, her posture too rigid, fingers clasped too tightly in her lap.
I grab a plate, piling it with sandwiches, and sit across from Lane rather than beside her. Distance seems safer.
"Want half my sandwich?" I hold out the plate.
Lane nods, reaching for it. Our fingers brush as she takes it, and her hand jerks back slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but I recognize the ripple of awareness between us.
"Thanks," she murmurs, eyes fixed on her coffee cup.
"So what's our plan?" Carly asks, handing Leigh a juice box. "Luke's appointment is coming up. I can totally take him if?—"
I swallow a bite, oddly aware of the mechanical process of chewing and swallowing. "I'll take the boys to the clinic. You three go have fun."
"Really?" Lane's voice rises slightly. "Are you sure, Woody?"
"I'm positive. I can talk to the doctors while they do their thing." I shrug, projecting a casualness that doesn't come naturally. Truth be told, I can catch up on the cases I missed yesterday and today without Lane getting irritated, so it works. "No reason for everyone to sitaround in a clinic."
