“It is,” I say quickly. “What’s your favourite thing to do when it’s raining?”
His gaze goes dark and hot, and he looks away quickly. He clears his throat, takes a sip of wine, does it again. “Uh. Read, I guess.”
I nod, doing my best not to squirm in place. The air is starting to feel thick and heavy around us, like another mini storm is brewing right here in the penthouse. “I like to curl up in bed,” I say. “And just listen. Maybe fall asleep to the sound of it.”
The rain picks up, louder against the windows, and for a few moments, we sit in silence, watching the storm. But while my eyes are on the windows, my body is hyperaware of Jacob on the couch beside me. Every breath he takes, every sip of wine, every shift of muscles makes my skin tingle and blood whoosh in my ears.
After a bit, he lets out a long, slow breath, toying with the stem of his glass. His fingers are long and thick, the movement mesmerizing. I want to know what those fingers would feel like—in my hair, on my skin, tracing over my throat.
“How have you been, Cam?” he asks, his voice quiet, intense. When I open my mouth, he shakes his head, as if he already knows what I’m going to say. “How have you really been? Since the divorce.”
I blink, a bit thrown by his question. No one’s ever asked me that before—if I’m okay, how things are. My mother lives in France and we only talk once or twice a month, usually about everything going on in her life. The divorce was hard on her, but my life fell apart, too. And no one ever asked if I was okay.
Until now.
I take a sip of my wine, letting it push the lump forming in my throat back down. “It’s had its ups and downs,” I answer honestly with a small shrug. “I don’t really see my mother much. She’s living in Paris and we’re not…close. I mean, we never were, but once I was in university, she kinda…” I shrug again. “Checked out, I guess. I’m pretty much on my own.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, some unreadable emotion flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. That’s just how life goes. There are good parts and bad parts, and you just have to keep going. Everyone has their shit, you know? I’m lucky enough that mine isn’t that bad.”
He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches me with a gleaming, almost hungry intensity in his eyes.
I bite my lip, questions bubbling up inside me. Questions that I don’t really have the right to ask, but here, in the darkness with the rain beating a soothing rhythm on the windows, it feels different.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course. You can ask me anything, Camryn.”
“Why…” Heat rushes to my cheeks. “Why did you and my mother split up? I…I know her version, but I want to hear yours.”
Jacob takes a sip of wine and then exhales slowly, his chest rising and falling with his breath. He peers into his wineglass, as if the answers he needs are inside it.
“We…weren’t well suited,” he finally says after a moment. “At first, the differences between us seemed like a good thing. She was vibrant, social, always chasing the next thrill. The perfect person to have on my arm at parties and charity functions and all the social obligations I hate. I’m not a social butterfly like her. I like order and routine and quiet. She wanted a life of luxury and excitement, which I could provide. I was tired of being alone, of navigating it all by myself.” He swallows, not looking at me. “In the end, we were just too different. She wanted a rich husband. I wanted a convenient wife, and surprise surprise, that wasn’t a formula for a lasting relationship.” He peers atme. “Sylvie and I weren’t a great love story, Camryn. It was…convenient. Until it wasn’t.”
That muscle in his jaw jumps again, and I sip my wine as I wait for him to continue.
“But I don’t regret it,” he says, glancing over at me. That dark gleam is back in his eyes, and I press my thighs together. “Because it brought you into my life.”
My chest goes hot and tight, but I shake my head. “You didn’t even know me.”
He tips his head. “I knew enough. I saw the way you carried yourself. Quiet, observant, ridiculously smart beyond your years. And I saw the way the world treated you. Like you were an afterthought, even to your own mother.” He sets his wine glass down on the coffee table in front of us. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize just how alone you were. How little anyone was looking out for you.”
It’s like a fist is squeezing around my lungs, making it hard to breathe. “What would you have done? If you’d known?” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry.
His fingers curl against his thighs, knuckles going white. Another flash of lightning, another crash of thunder. He doesn’t answer. The rain lashing the windows fills the silence, but I can barely hear it over the way my breath is sawing in and out of my chest, my heart pounding in my ears.
“Can I ask you another question?”
He nods.
Butterflies flap in my stomach as I twist my fingers together. “Why are you single? It’s been four years, and you…I’m just, I…don’t know why you’re not in a relationship.”
His lips twitch and he turns to me, eyebrows raised. “I could ask you the same thing.” He leans in a bit closer, and I can smell him. “Why are you single?”
I blink, sucking in a shaky breath. “That’s not an answer.”
His gaze rakes over me in a way that makes me both warm and shivery at the same time, and I pull the blanket tighter around my legs.
