My heart was thudding. It wasn’t quite the clenching I usually felt, but it was a hardth-wham, th-wham, th-wham.
His voice lowered. “Do you still have her ashes?”
We had put equal amounts in three ceramic boxes. One had gone into the ground under a stone that held her name. Of the remaining two, we each had one. Mine was in my green velvet box, being kept safe by my grandmother’s spirit.
I took an uneven breath and willed my heart to ease up. “Yes,” I said as softly. “You?”
“Mm. I haven’t found a place where I wanted to set them free.”
“Me, neither.”
We were quiet then, even my heart. Given what we were discussing, the hush should have been filled with angst. Either I was too tired for angst, or discussing this with Edward had made it bearable. Not peaceful. But bearable.
After a full minute, he said, “So, can we do it?”
“What?”
“Date?”
“You mean, like go out to dinner?”
“Yeah. In public. There may be talk, but so what? No one has to know anything more than we want them to know.”
“Michael Shanahan will have to know.”
“How the hell would he?”
“He knows everything. I swear he has spies, and what he doesn’t learn from them, he learns from me because when he asks, I have to answer. That’s the rule. He says it’s his job to know who I spend time with.”
“So tell him. I’m sure he’d rather you spend time with me than with Grace.”
Actually, I wasn’t so sure.Jealousywas the word that came to mind.
“So, do we date?” Edward asked.
“It can’t go anywhere,” I warned. He might think he still loved me, but if he saw me often—if he saw me without makeup, with my bangs a mess and my scar showing, he might realize he couldn’t wake up to that every morning.
And me? What would I feel? On one hand, I didn’t ever again want to go through the pain of divorce. This time, though there was no marriage to be wrecked. I would always be coming home to my own place—well, my own, assuming Liam left—and my pets and my friends and my job. I would be keeping my heart to myself. But if spending time with Edward helped me work through the past, I might be able to move on, too.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
I sighed. “I guess.”
His voice held a smile. “Your lack of enthusiasm is a challenge, Mackenzie Cooper.”
“Maggie Reid,” I corrected. This mattered to me. That said, I would only ever think of him as Edward.
“Maggie Reid, can I come over now?”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“I want to hold you.”
“No!” I said, but I was smiling, too. “That would muddy the waters. This isn’t about sex. It’s about our helping each other through a rough patch in a way that keeps the past just between us. No one else is to know. I mean it, Edward Cooper.”
