“It could be nothing, just a fall like the doctor said, but it is in Damian’s nature to learn for himself.”
“Is he thinking it wasn’t an accident?”
“You live in the same building, on the same floor, and are friends with her. There’s a connection and Damian would like to rule out other possible scenarios.”
“But she’s just an old woman. Why would anyone want to hurt her?”
“Most likely no one did, but that’s not something he would assume.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m grateful that he’s so cautious, but I can’t help but think the three of you find trouble in everything, even when it doesn’t exist. There has been nothing, no attempt at all. A lot of attention is being paid to my safety for what seems like no reason.”
“I’m sorry to say that isn’t the case. When you are around danger long enough, it is easier to spot.”
“So there is trouble brewing?”
“Yes.”
That was not a comforting thought, but I wasn’t going to obsess. The guys were on it and I would do my part and be careful.
Anton didn’t elaborate on the trouble. He seemed to be of the same mindset as me, of not making me worry. He brushed past that topic and instead said, “And he cares. This is how he shows it.”
I knew that and knew of several other ways he liked to show he cared that I liked even more.
Our meals arrived and for a little while we ate in comfortable silence, though my thoughts lingered on the news that Damian thought there might be more to what happened to Mrs. Cooke. I hated the idea that she could have been hurt because of me. I put it from my head and hoped he was wrong. After our dishes were removed, Anton reached for his glass of wine. He looked so relaxed and yet I knew he was taking in everything around him. “What do you want for dessert?”
“The crème brûlée is killer here but the pumpkin tart with nutmeg ice cream sounds delicious too.”
“Get both and we’ll share.”
“Yay! Exactly what I hoped you would say.”
“So how has it been with Damian?”
Just hearing his name pulled a smile. “We’re older, but we’re not so different. Why didn’t you tell me sooner that he was home?”
“I thought you knew. I thought he came to see you, so I was more than a little surprised by your reaction when I did.”
“Cam didn’t tell me either. He assumed too.” I reached for my glass of wine. “Damian is definitely more reserved than he was and keeps his feelings really close to his chest. We allowed doubt to dictate our reunion , at least I did, because what we felt as kids was so intense. But it is still there, the love and attraction. He told me he had intended to ask me to come back with him that night so long ago when I was a drunken fool. I would have gone with him. I wish he had asked, wished he hadn’t been called away before he could.” I took a sip of my wine, lost in thought before I added, “I don’t understand why he never tried asking me again.”
“Have you asked him?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
“And now?”
“He is home, back in the neighborhood, and we both still feel it, so I think we have finally gotten our timing right.”
His smile in reply said it all.
Our desserts arrived. The waitress put the crème brûlée in front of Anton and the pumpkin tart in front of me. I split the tart and ice cream, putting his half on the unused bread plate and slid it over the table to him before I tasted a forkful and moaned in sheer bliss when the flavors exploded on my tongue.
“It’s better than sex.”
I hadn’t realized I said that out loud until I heard Anton’s reply. “You’re not doing sex right if that’s the case.”
My eyes flew open to find him grinning at me. When it came to sex, I was seriously out of practice. He made a good point though. Sex with Damian had always been mind-blowing. I really hoped I got a refresher on that and soon. “I need a filter.”
“I like that you say exactly what you think.”
“It’s a condition actually, Tourette’s.” I glanced up from my dessert, but he wasn’t eating. “Aren’t you going to try it?”
“I’m enjoying watching you, ever the enthusiast for sugar.”
I glared and he chuckled again before he lifted his fork. “It’s very good,” he said as he pushed the crème in my direction and having the metabolism that I had, I finished off both desserts.
A little while later, Anton signaled for the waitress. I reached for my clutch to pay. He glared. He handed over a black credit card. I thought to argue with him but he wasn’t a man one argued with and won. “Thank you.”