Page 41 of One Midnight Kiss

“I know.”

I walked to the French doors that opened to the backyard. Yes, I was making myself at home. I stepped onto the covered back porch and scanned the tidy backyard. I imagined in the spring there would be lots of flowers. Right then, it was a little dull and drab, but that was to be expected.

“Yes, I know it’s Tuesday. No, I’m not coming in. I’m taking a sick day,” she said, sounding almost pained to admit it.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw her on the phone.

“I’ll be there tomorrow. I’m fine. Just one more day to rest.”

I moved to take a seat in one of the patio chairs. A few moments later, Natalia joined me. She settled into the chair beside mine with the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. She was holding her cup of coffee close to her.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice hesitant, like she was forcing herself to say it.

I raised an eyebrow. “For what? The Theraflu soup or the life-altering coffee?”

“Both.” She hesitated. “And for being here. You didn’t have to.”

“No, I didn’t,” I agreed, leaning back in my chair.

“You’re very blunt,” she said.

“I’ve been told.” I shrugged. “You are as well. Doesn’t it just feel like it works better? Too much bullshit and nonsense trying to sugarcoat stuff.”

“There is a place for tact,” she said. “I can be very tactful with clients.”

“I’m a client.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t be here,” she said.

I ignored her weak protest. We were both enjoying our coffee. I had been waiting for the right moment to ask her about something that had been gnawing at me all night. She was a very secretive woman. Guarded. Like she might be in the witness protection program. I decided to tap into my bluntness and just tell her what was on my mind.

“I looked you up,” I said.

“What?” Her head snapped toward me. There was a look of irritation on her face before she looked away.

“Online,” I clarified. “Your socials are dead. You haven’t posted in six years. Your profile at the firm is bare bones. You’re a bit of a ghost.”

“And?” Her tone was sharp, defensive. “Big deal. Not everyone needs to put their entire lives on the internet. It’s what we call privacy.”

“And you’re divorced.”

I saw the way her shoulders tensed, the way her grip tightened on her coffee mug. She said nothing, just stared out at the tiny patch of backyard visible beyond the porch.

“Why?” I pressed, unable to let it go. “Did you cheat on him, or did that idiot cheat on you?”

She stared at me. For a moment, I thought she was going to tell me to leave, to get out and never come back. She looked like she was debating tossing her mug at me, but then I saw her shoulders relax a little.

“He cheated on me,” she said quietly, almost like she was confessing a secret she had held on to for too long. “And that’s why I will never get married again. “

The silence that followed was heavy. I didn’t know what I had expected her to say, but it wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it.

She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I have moved on. Life happens. I’m not the first woman to be cheated on and I won’t be the last.”

“No, I guess not,” I said quietly.

We sat in silence for a while. I had a lot of questions, but I didn’t want to push it. I didn’t want to bring up bad memories. I watched her from the corner of my eye, trying to figure out what it was about her that had started getting under my skin.

I should have left right then. I knew I was crossing a line sticking around. I didn’t get the feeling she really wanted me there, but then again, she wasn’t telling me to leave either.

“What an idiot,” I muttered finally.

She glanced at me. “Excuse me?”

“Your ex,” I clarified. “He must’ve been an idiot to cheat on you.”

She smiled softly. “He was. But it was his choice. We all have to take responsibility for the choices we make, and we have to live with the consequences.”

“I suppose you’re right,” I replied.

Her words made a lot of sense, more than I cared to admit.

We fell back into an easy silence. I realized it wasn’t just concern that had brought me here last night.

I liked being around her. I liked this side of her that she seemed determined to keep from the rest of the world. The soft, unguarded version of Natalia Dawkins was someone I wanted to get to know better.