Page 66 of The Accident

I’m not scared.

I’m not sorry.

And for the first time, I don’t care who knows.

24

THE “TALK”

Trevor

The light in the kitchen is growing dusky, almost holy. Late sun leaks through the bank of glass, hitting the white marble in a way that makes every surface hum with clarity. The room is warm, and it smells like sautéed onion and something sweet, basil maybe, and when I round the corner, I see Kayleigh at the stove, bent over a saucepan. She’s got her hair up in a makeshift knot, a few damp curls sticking to her neck, and she’s wearing nothing but a long, loose dress that’s almost a muumuu, except ten times sexier with a bare back.

My first thought is about how good she looks with her curves poured into that blue linen, the sash tied tight at her waist and the hem riding up on her thighs. My second thought is not so much a thought as a kind of electric hallucination, because I see it clear as a day: Kayleigh barefoot, belly distended with my baby inside, stirring pasta sauce with a serious look on her pretty features while a little blonde toddler bangs a wooden spoon against the cabinets nearby. For a second, I see myself in this future, coming home from work to find her just like this, the kitchen hot and bright, our children making a mess on the tile.

Our children.

I blink, hard, and try to kill the thought. What the fuck is going on? I’m a confirmed bachelor who swore I’d go to the grave single. Yet, the vision doesn’t die. I look at the pretty blonde again and my heart does this thing—contracts, then goes totally soft and loose. I stand like a fucking statue, letting the vision burn itself on my retinas. I’m not a family man. I don’t do babies, or diapers, or anything that requires me to be home at a set hour. I am not, under any circumstances, a person who should be having these kinds of fantasies. And yet the image lingers.

At that moment, Kayleigh glances over her shoulder, gives a startled smile, then swipes a wet finger across her lips to taste whatever she’s cooking.

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in,” she smiles sweetly. “Are you hungry? I made dinner, but it’s just pasta and salad. Nothing fancy.”

I watch her for a second longer, taking in the dress, the bare legs, the way she hums a bit while watching the simmering sauce. “Looks great,” I say, and my voice sounds rough even to my own ears.

She smiles and plates the pasta and brings it to the island, sliding the bowl toward me with a practiced flick of the wrist. I take my seat at the counter, and she does the same, perching herself on the high stool, dress bunched between her knees.

We eat in silence for a minute. The food is simple—penne in a red sauce, over-salted but perfect. I watch her twirl noodles around her fork, her hands shaking just slightly. I want to ask her what she’s thinking about, but I already know.

I set my fork down and lean forward. “How was your day?”

She gives a tight smile, brightening. “It was fine. I went by my apartment and picked up some stuff. Stella was there, and that girl is crazy, I have to say.”

I nod.

“Have I met her before?”

Kayleigh cocks her head at me and squints a bit. “I don’t think so. I think maybe you guys saw each other at the bachelor auction, but were never introduced. She’s the beautiful blonde who’s always surrounded by guys. Tall, short, fat, thin, guys just love Stella.”

I shake my head.

“Well, I was obviously immune to her charms because I can’t picture her at the moment.”

Kayleigh nods. “She was at the auction, but running around the entire time. Probably talking to people because that girl is a social butterfly. But I got some other errands done too. I picked up your dry cleaning. Ran by the pharmacy. Called the AV guy about the broken remote.” She ticks off the list on her fingers, as if she needs to prove her worth even here, at the table. “Also, I ordered the new espresso pods. I didn’t know which flavor, so I got all of them.”

I grin, then reach over and wipe a dot of tomato sauce from her chin with my thumb. She blushes hard, then licks her lips, which only makes it worse.

“You did good,” I say. “You’ve been very productive, sweetheart.”

Her face is radiantly happy at my praise. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and looks away.

We eat for another minute, and I watch her hands. She eats fast, like she’s afraid of losing her appetite, but her fork is so small in her hand that it looks almost childish.

I take a sip of my drink, then set it down. “So did you get a chance to look around the penthouse?”

Kay nods, blonde head shining.

“A bit. I had to search for some cleaning supplies, and also try to locate an alternate remote. So yeah, I looked around.”