Page 119 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

He shared his life with her. His daily life.

Does part of him miss her?

“What’s going on in that pretty little head?” he asks softly. “I don’t like that look in your eyes.”

I try to deflect.

“What look?”

“Doubt.”

I lower my eyes.

Do I really want to open that door right now? When we have less than an hour before we need to leave?

“I’m still having trouble realizing you’re here.”

His expression softens.

“Don’t think I missed that pathetic attempt to change the subject.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

“We’ll talk about it tonight.”

A faint smile slips from me. I missed the way he sees straight through me.

The silence between us feels easy. We simply look at each other. For all the days stolen from us. For every moment we believed this one would never exist again.

His hand rises to my cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers.

My eyes close for a second.

His gaze drifts briefly to my mouth before he forces himself to look away.

Despite the intimacy of the night, we still don’t kiss.

I’m not ready. And he doesn’t ask.

*

We barely speak during breakfast.

I make the coffee while he handles the toast. Our bodies brush now and then, and every contact leaves me shaky and wanting more.

Sometimes our eyes meet and we can’t help smiling.

It’s crazy how the simplest things regain value once you’ve believed you lost them forever.

Sometimes he simply takes my hand to press a kiss against it.

Sometimes the desire becomes too strong, too immediate, and suddenly awkward and flustered, we put physical distance back between us.

Stephen arrives around eight.

His gaze moves from Dante to me with obvious amusement.

The smirk on his face tells me immediately that he’s in an unbearable mood.