Page 62 of Loving at 40

Jenna might be right. I might have short-changed my sister’s ability to accept my position, my line of work. I just thought it best that only my dad knew and eventually only Ben, keeping it in the male line, which sounds chauvinistic.

“I’ll have to think about it.” As soon as I say it, I know Anna and I need to chat. She needs to know where I’ve been and why I’ve done what I’ve done. Our other sister, Amelia, should be in on that conversation as well.

As we stand still, Jenna glances back out at the water, shielding her eyes to take in something in the distance. We’re quiet again, and things aren’t going in the direction I’d hoped.

“Babe, I want you to know that I might not always be able to say where I’m going, but it’s for your safety.” I reach up and swipe the hair blowing in the breeze behind her ear. “I’ll never let anything hurt you or your girls.”

She turns to me with a soft smiles, but her attention drifts back to something on the water. It’s pissing me off a little that I can’t keep her attention.

“What are you looking at?” An edge fills my voice.

“That’s one big boat.”

Turning, I expect to see some shipping barge, not uncommon on the Great Lakes, but instead, there is a sleek white craft that looks large even from this distance, which means it’s a yacht, most likely private and pricey. Whoever owns it is one wealthy person. For the briefest second, I recall who I know with that kind of cash, and a shiver ripples up my spine.

Viviana was spotted at a marina in Chicago.

Quickly, I dismiss the thought despite Braxton’s voice in my head. Lake Michigan would not be the place Vi would yacht. The Gulf Coast. The Caribbean Sea. The ocean off Colombia. But a lake? Not happening.

Still, my eyes can’t seem to pull away from the large boat until my phone beeps with a notification that a table would be ready for us in ten minutes. I inform Jenna and steer us back in the direction of Driftwood. As we walk to the restaurant, my mind is skipping all over the place.

Be home.

Big boat.

Family.

Cash on the lake.

It isn’t uncommon for homes in this area to be valued over a million dollars. The property alone is worth that much, and then add a huge house, and the price tag might quadruple.

Not to mention, drug running through the lakes up to Canada has increased. It’s just something people don’t want to consider on the third coast.

My mind drifts, recollecting the Quintero’s obscene portfolio. Houses. Boats. Cars. It was crazy. My gaze shifts over Jenna’s shoulder, looking out over the water, wondering . . . but it can’t be.

Next, I glance at Jenna, long and sleek with her raven hair and sweet lips. She’s everything opposite of what I once had—as a small-town high school teacher, raising two little girls on her own and doing a damn good job of it. She’s worth more than any yacht, club, or private island.

She’s home. She’s stability. She’s what I need.

Back at the restaurant, the hostess seats us on the rooftop, and we order a bottle of wine. Silence grows between us. An unexpected tension weaves around us. This isn’t how I wanted our date to go, but as long as things already feel so tangled, I broach one more topic.

“Sunday is approaching.”

Jenna sighs, reaching for her glass of wine and taking a sip while looking out at the lowering sun.

“It was only supposed to be between us,” she says quietly, setting her glass back down on the table and lowering her eyes to the linen. “Undercover.” She lifts her head and weakly smiles.

Does she think I’ve been pretending with her? I told her last night how I had to play a role, but I’m finished with acting. I don’t want to hide anymore. Crossing my arms on the table, I lean forward.

“Is that all you want it to be?” What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom? Can she walk away that easily? I’ll never be able to sleep in that room again. Her scent will linger. Thoughts of what we’ve done will dance through my memory every time I’m in that space.

Her reluctant expression says she’s fighting her own thoughts.

“What if I said I wanted to see you again?” I ask.

Her brows arch. “How would that work? Especially if you went back to the department?”

How would that work? Could I just come and go on investigations? Would Jenna wait for me if I went missing for months or even years as I had before? The Quintero case was the largest, longest assignment I’d had, and I doubted I’d be put on something so intense again, but still, I’d be placed somewhere.