She’d decorated A CertainTea much like her own home. Grays, creams, woods, with occasional charcoal. A perfect model unit, yet lacking in the essentials that made a house a home. Not even the pop of lavender pillows and artwork had made a difference. Alec, on the other hand, might.
She crossed to him. With a slightly shaky hand, she handed him a wineglass, blurting, “I want to talk about the kiss.”
Alec’s wineglass halted in midair. “I thought we already did.”
Colby gestured toward the sofa. When he sank into its deep cushions, Colby settled beside him. Although they weren’t touching, his heat and energy warmed her.
“I’ve been thinking.” She gulped some wine for courage, then set her glass on the reclaimed-wood coffee table. “I overreacted. I’ve done that a lot since . . . Mark. I haven’t quite found my balance.”
“You’re still grieving your marriage.” His brows drew together, lending him a guilt-ridden appearance. She didn’t want him to feel guilty about kissing her. In fact, she wanted him to do it again. He stared at her wedding ring. “You witnessed something no one should see. And to lose someone you love that way . . .”
Colby almost confessed the truth about her troubled marriage and the guilt that clung to her like the freshman fifteen. But Mark had never wanted anyone to know. She couldn’t betray his memory now.
“I’m trying to move on. A CertainTea is a good start. But as much as I love the happy diners and sampling all of the amazing things you prepare, it hasn’t helped me here.” She gestured around her home and then settled a hand over her heart. “Or here.”
“You can’t force it, Colby.” He set down his glass and scrubbed his face. “A kiss shouldn’t make you cry.”
She edged closer. “I think it’d been so long since I’d experienced any kind of lust. It shocked me, especially because it was you.”
When he looked away, she realized how that might have sounded.
She reached for his hand. “I only meant that we’ve been friends for so long. It was a little weird, right? I mean, we’ve got this whole platonic history. Surely part of you still thinks of me as the little brat who always chased after you and Hunter. Who bullied you into haircuts, tutoring, and kissing lessons.” She smiled, her mind sifting through a hundred moments from their youth.
“It’s weird, but not for those reasons.” Alec released her hand, stood, and went to the window. Not the response she’d expected. Maybe her indecisiveness all week had pushed him away. “We can’t leave the past behind until we talk about Mark and Joe.”
“Please don’t make me dissect my marriage and everything that led to Mark’s jump. It’s too painful.” The familiar lump wedged in her throat, making it hard to swallow. She closed her eyes for a second to will it away. “Talking about it changes nothing. I’ll simply say that not everything is how you or others may think it was. All I need—all I want now—is to close that door.” She studied Alec’s profile. His jaw clenched while he thought. “Just tell me, are you interested in helping me move forward?”
His thoughts boiled over like a poorly tended stockpot. She didn’t know she was handing him his deepest desire, or that the truth stood between them like an invisible fence poised to deliver a painful shock. “My interest is obvious, isn’t it? But we have to discuss the past. There’s something I haven’t told you.”
“I know.” She looked down then, so she didn’t see the blood drain from his face when his heart stopped.
“You know?” He’d never considered that perhaps Mark had told her about the letter. He couldn’t speak, standing in a sort of frightened fascination about what she’d say next.
“I remember Joe’s funeral, when Mark accused you of having something to do with Joe’s mood on the hike. You two had a fight, right?”
Alec imagined he looked like a carp, the way his mouth opened and closed at least twice before he formed a response. “That’s true, but—”
“But nothing. Brothers fight.” She waved her hand as if one airy stroke could erase all those years and battles. “Whatever happened didn’t push Joe off that cliff.”
He sucked in a breath, his thoughts veering from Mark to his brother, an equally shameful and unpleasant deliberation. “Maybe not literally, but the night before that hike, I not only wanted to hurt him, I reveled in it.”
Colby shifted on the sofa. Her cat-shaped eyes wide yet gentle, waiting. Apparently curious to know more about the ugliness living inside him.