Page 28 of Forced Proximity

‘Ah. And that upset you.’ As usual, he adds both Tabasco and ketchup to his eggs – gross – and passes me the pepper.

‘You know I don’t let clients see that,’ I say, lapping up the leftover yolk on my plate with the bread. ‘They’ll think I can’t do the job.’

‘You’ve said that before, but it’s not entirely fair that you assume you know your clients’ feelings.’ He reaches for the salt. ‘How did he respond?’

He’d looked like he was going to puke, which is the only gratifying piece of this entire situation. ‘He called me Superwoman.’

Marcus pulls his mug to his mouth. ‘You don’t say.’

‘What?’

‘It’s just that you’ve only been with him a little over three weeks, and this is the most you’ve ever complained about a client. You didn’t even complain this much about Lord Elkton when he made you smell all his food to see if you detected poison.’

How did I forget about that? ‘Yeah, well, it’s cause he’s seriously aggravating.’

Marcus lifts a brow. ‘And incredibly handsome.’

I stiffen in my seat and stab at my hashbrowns. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Of course I noticed. It’s hard not to notice. And I’m not ready to say this to Marcus, but Justin’s becoming … bearable. Teetering on likable. I struggle to reconcile my preconceived idea of him with the fact that he’s either cooked for me or asked me what I wanted ordered for dinner every night. Not only that … he does it himself.

Marcus adds a dash more creamer to his coffee and clanks the spoon as he stirs. ‘No more packages, letters or videos?’

I shake my head. ‘Whoever’s sending this stuff is lying low for now, which makes me itchy. Hard to know if they got bored or are planning something more sinister.’ The threat may have moved on to someone else or their compulsion might be momentarily quieted. I wipe my hands on the napkin and lean back in the booth. ‘I know the original plan was to increase his public appearances with the hope that we flush out the stalker, but Justin doesn’t want to leave the house except for his regular routine. And I don’t think it’s up to me to push him.’

The server stops by to check on our food. When she leaves, Marcus’s normally hyperconfident body wavers, and his throat rolls like he’s swallowing a brick. Oh no …

‘Well, Lexi, I need to share something with you.’

Lexi? Oh no. My head snaps up. ‘You never use my real name. What happened?’

He folds his hands in front of his chest. ‘I promised if something significant happened with Katey, I’d tell you so you wouldn’t be caught off guard.’

My heart lurches into my throat. When Katey and I first moved here, Marcus became the father figure we both needed to transition into our new LA life. When we couldn’t make it back to Minnesota for the holidays, him and Ethan hosted us at their place. When I was gone on long trips, he’d take a lonely Katey out for pizza. After she and I divorced, Marcus struggled with his loyalty to me and his fondness for Katey. But I assured him that he didn’t need to break off their relationship, just because Katey and I broke off ours. They still meet for quarterly coffee dates, but he rarely talks about their conversations. Just because Katey and I haven’t spoken for years, doesn’t mean I don’t care about her well-being.

I dig my thumb into my scarred collarbone and take a breath. Marcus bringing her up, warranting the use of my birth name, floods my system with alarm bells.

‘Everything okay?’ I don’t want to know. Marcus’s drooped posture gives it away. Whatever he’s about to say is not good. Death? Sickness? Did my former in-laws pass away?

‘Katey and her wife had a baby last week.’ Marcus looks down and twirls his wedding band.

I pick up my fork to distract myself from the feeling of my heart cracking. Underneath the table, my knuckles burn from my clenched fist. I stare at my half-eaten eggs. Not fair. No matter how kind Katey is, or how much she deserves a family, it’s like the universe has ripped my heart open. Again.

I inhale through my nose and finally choke out a half-hearted, ‘Thank you for telling me.’

After breakfast, I get into my Jeep and barrel down the road. The open top whips my hair in the wind and my mind goes back to four years ago. To The Incident.

The piercing gunshots sound. The searing pain in my shattered collarbone. Me toppling the environmental CEO, a woman I was signed to protect, a woman I deeply admired. The confusion of not knowing if the blood belonged to me or my client.

The memory is clouded, like a nightmare that I want to forget, but visual shards pop through upon awakening. Katey and I had been fighting for months. Every call, every interaction, every break between clients, Katey would say she felt my job was more important than her. We’re supposed to start a family, she’d say. I’ve been waiting for years.

We’d done all the IVF testing. I accepted the fact that my body couldn’t carry children, but she could. And I was so excited for us. Me, a mom! Everything I’d wanted was within touching distance. Katey was going to start the hormone injections, and if all went well, we’d have a family. But … I needed a bit more time. Just give it another year, I’d begged. There was always another job, another place I wanted to go, another way I had to prove myself.

I told Katey I’d slow down, I’d reprioritize, that I wanted children so, so bad, but when the opportunity came to travel to Germany with the CEO, I couldn’t refuse. This woman was a dream client. Smart, polished, fearless, set out to make changes even in the face of threats. The gig was only for three months, and then we could work on building our family.

Right before The Incident, Katey had called and we argued. Again. For the last year, no matter where I was located around the globe, we were arguing. But, this time, it was different. Quiet. Katey had broken. And I was rattled. After I hung up, I grabbed the CEO from the conference room to escort her to the car, but my mind was elsewhere.

Distracted. Unfocused.

I didn’t see it coming.