Page 63

Mine, I think. You’re mine now. And I’m not going to fail you again.

She comes downstairs while I’m making breakfast.

I hear her bare feet on the stairs, and I look up as she appears in the kitchen doorway. The sight of her stops me dead in the middle of plating the bacon and mushrooms.

My T-shirt is hanging off one shoulder, her hair is loose, and her eyes are soft with sleep. She looks at the counter, at the eggs, the toast, the fruit, and the coffee already made. Then she looks at me, like she can’t quite believe any of this is real.

I cross the kitchen and kiss her. She makes a small, surprised sound and then kisses me back, her hands finding my chest, and she tastes of peppermint.

My toothpaste. My T-shirt. My Cora.

I’m going to need a minute.

“Good morning,” I whisper against her lips.

“Morning.” She’s slightly pink, her cheeks flushed. “You’re making breakfast.”

“I am.”

“You cook.”

I smile down at her. “I do for you.”

At dawn I was making phone calls. By the time the sun was streaming through the kitchen windows, there were soldiers securing the perimeter of my property. I had a new car and driver, and two armed men were placing bags of groceries on the kitchen counter. They’ve melted out of sight, but they’ll never be more than a dozen feet away.

She looks at the spread again and then up at me, like she’s waiting for the catch. Nobody has ever made her breakfast before. I’d bet my life on it.

I take her by the shoulders, turn her around, and sit her gently on the stool at the counter.

“Coffee?” I pour it without waiting for her reply, add vanilla syrup, and set it in front of her.

She wraps both hands around the mug, takes a sip, and closes her eyes with a quiet sigh.

I can’t resist touching her, stroking the curve of her cheek with the side of my thumb. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a log.” She opens her eyes and smiles at me.

I put food in front of her and sit down to watch her eat, which is something I could apparently do indefinitely. Every bite she takes is something I’ve provided, something I get to give her, and I didn’t know I had it in me to feel delighted by such a small thing until right now.

Sitting across from her, I eat my own breakfast, but my mind is not on the food.

I wait until she’s finished and finally say, “I have to tell you something.”

She looks up and searches my face, her posture instantly more guarded. “Troy?”

“He got away. I’m sorry.”

I watch her take a breath, the way she does when she’s deciding to be braver than she feels.

“What will you do when you find him?” she asks.

“Do you really want to know?”

She holds my gaze for a moment, considering it. Then she shakes her head.

“Put him out of your mind.” I reach across the counter and cover her hand with mine, squeezing gently. “He’s my problem now, not yours. You don’t have to carry the weight of him anymore.” I smile at her. “Today, we’re going shopping.”

She blinks in surprise. “Shopping?”