Page 46 of I’m Already Gone

I blink, shocked at his confession.

“I don’t know who’s taking care of you now, Lily,” he says under his breath, as if he doesn’t want to tell me. “But I⁠—”

“I am,” I cut in. “But I appreciate you checking in on me.” I try to convey warmth through my smile, and he mirrors it back.

“I keep forgetting how stubborn you are,” he adds.

The sound of our laughter dances in the air.

Everything feels right again. Being in the same room with him after all these years brings a sense of safety I didn’t know I’d missed so much.

“How were the last few days without the kids?” he asks.

“Fine,” I reply.

He slowly bobs his head, but his eyes narrow just a fraction. They are searching for something, a tell, a clue. I know that look. I can practically hear the gears grinding in his head.

“So, did you... go anywhere special?” His gaze dips to my lips, then back up, lingering. “Or with someone?” he asks. The words are a little too careful, a little too slow.

His ocean blue eyes are boring into me. And in that intense gaze, I see it ...the suspicion, the flicker of jealousy, and the pain.

I want to laugh. If he only knew the real reason. He thought I was on a romantic getaway, living it up with a new man? Wouldn’t he love to know the truth, that I spent the days with a needle plunged into my arm, a toxic cocktail of chemicals seeping into my veins. Not to mention clutching a porcelain bowl afterward.

I hold his gaze, letting the silence stretch so he can stew in his ridiculous assumptions.

“I’m not seeing anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The tension that had been a rigid knot in his shoulders softens.

“Not that it’s any of your business if I was,” I add, unable to resist a smirk.

The corners of his lips, those lips I know so well, twitch upwards.

And there it is.

The dimple beside his mouth, the endearing indentation that seems to appear when he is amused or a little bit flustered.

My heart gives a traitorous little thump against my ribs.

The sound of his phone going off shatters our moment.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, retrieving his phone. “Hello, Hannah.”

I turn back to my dough.

An uneasy feeling slithers down my spine, sending a shiver through me. My stomach twists into a knot, tightening as anxiety coils within.

Who’s Hannah? His new girlfriend?

“I’m on my way.” He hangs up. I can feel the heat of his gaze piercing through me. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Okay, thank you for stopping by and for the gift.” I start kneading the dough in the bowl, adding flour so it doesn’t stick to my hands.

The steady push and fold gives me something to focus on, rather than letting him see the hurt gathering in my eyes. Even after four years, the thought of him with another woman still finds the tenderest place in my heart and breaks it all over again.

“Lily.”

“Yes?” I ask, still not looking at him.