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“Nah. They’re excited about something.”
“About what?”
“How would I know?”
Something about the way he won’t look at me as he hangs his jacket has alarms going off inside my head. What is he hiding from me?
Should I worry?
I shrug off my coat and hang it next to his jacket, then turn to ask him what he’s playing at, when he heads off into the bedroom, leaving me gaping after him.
Well, now. Honestly?
Muttering to myself, I start for the bedroom, but the door is closed, and I hesitate, suddenly wondering if Dylan was more upset by not finding Kenneth Shaw today than I thought.
I step back, troubled, and turn toward the kids’ room. Their door is shut, too, and I knock on it, before I try the handle.
Locked?
“Kids, open up! You’re not supposed to lock this door.”
The handle rattles, then the door opens, and in a strange twist from this morning, a suspicious blue eye looks up at me.
“It’s not locked,” Miles says.
“Then why wouldn’t it open?”
“How would I know?” he says, a perfect imitation of his older brother.
I shake my head. “What are you guys doing?” I try to peer inside the room. “Are you making something?”
“Nosy.” Miles wags a finger at me.
And closes the door in my face.
What in the world?
“Miles!” I rap on the door, then change my mind and turn toward our bedroom. Enough of this today. I’m rattled from this morning’s happenings, too, and I need to be in Dylan’s arms, without any of this weirdness, whatever it means.
I turn the handle, open the door.
And Dylan hides something behind his back, his expression guilty.
All right, I’ve had enough. “What’s going on?” I practically wail at him. “Dyl?”
“Trust me?” he asks, and I nod even as my heart is pounding.
“Yes. You know that. But—”
He reaches for my hand. “Come with me.”
Speechless, I follow him to the living room and let him place me in the middle of it, the apartment door behind me.
“Dylan?”
He pulls something from his back pocket and drops to one knee in front of me. “Tessa.”
I put my hands over my mouth. “What are you doing?” Muffled.
