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It’s clear Thomas Moore is not a hugger.
Or he was never given enough opportunities to know how to hug. Either option tugs at my already taut heartstrings and my hold on him tightens. A moment later, I’m about to pull away when his shoulders ease and his arms slide around me, drawing me close enough that I can rest my cheek against his chest.
My body rises and falls as he inhales deeply.
Contrary to today’s roller coaster of emotions, I’m not usually a crier. I might choke up during a sad movie or sigh deeply at a particular poignant section of a romance novel, but I grew up knowing that crying never solved anything, so I never really did.
But today got to me. A few times. All of them in front of this man. A man who I may have blackmailed but whom we both know could’ve rejected my plea and walked away relatively unscathed.
When I’m finally confident I can speak without crying again, I tilt my head up to thank him once more. Though when my eyes meet his, I falter.
His expression remains as stoic and reserved as before, but there’s a warm intensity that wasn’t there a moment ago.
His head slowly descends toward mine, his eyes darkening, as if under a shadow – the brown iris black, the bruised skin around his left eye a mottled array of midnight hues.
Or were his eyes always that dark and I just forgot?
Just as I’m about to close my eyes and welcome what will hopefully be another round of the best sex of my life that will erase today’s drama from my mind for a few blissful moments, he retreats.
I blink at him. ‘Thomas?’
Clearing his throat, he drops his arms and steps back. It’s like watching a curtain fall the way his demeanor shifts, as if he’s entering a business meeting.
‘This can’t happen.’ Hands now clasped behind his back, he retreats even further, the distance between us growing a lot more than just the two feet of Persian rug between us as he collects his paper on the floor by the chair.
‘Aunt Alice?’
My niece’s small voice startles me and I swipe under my eyes before turning toward her. ‘Mary, why are you out of bed?’
She tightens her hold on the stuffed cat in her arms. ‘Can you sleep with me?’
My heart squeezes once more and I wonder just how much more I can take tonight. ‘Yes, sweetie. Of course. It’ll be just like it used to.’
Mary’s face lights up and I wonder how it’s possible to love someone so much.
I take two steps before Mary tugs her hand free, then pads barefoot to Thomas who’s sitting behind his newspaper again. ‘Goodnight, Mr Thomas.’ She sticks one hand out.
There’s a pause and my heart lurches, wondering how or if he’ll respond. But then he folds his newspaper horizontally and peers over at my niece.
‘Goodnight, Mary.’ When he takes her hand in his and shakes it, very carefully, I release a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.
Smiling, Mary walks back to me.
It isn’t until we’re in the hallway that I think I hear him wish me goodnight as well.
16
THOMAS
‘Morning!’ Mary’s gap-toothed grin smiles at me over a massive pancake-batter explosion that covers my entire island countertop.
I lower the water bottle from my mouth and double-check the time on my watch. Six thirty.
I was up at my usual four thirty this morning, even after my erratic sleep schedule these past few nights.
Between my internal alarm clock being back in working order and a strange restless energy circulating inside my body, I took it as a sign I was well past due for a punishing workout.
I’ve been using exercise to exorcise since I was old enough to run. Family. Work. Failures. Emotions. All the problems that have plagued me throughout my life I’ve sweated out like toxins, until my body is exhausted and my mind is clear.
