Wednesday(24)

“Come on. I need juicier details than that.”

I took a deep breath, knowing I wouldn’t make it out of there alive without at least divulging something mildly intriguing. So I blurted the most interesting thing about going out with Bryan.

“Shaw crashed my second date.”

Her brows wrinkled. “He did what? Why?”

“Toward the end of my second date in the park, Shaw’s truck was parked in the distance. He was watching us.”

Her gaze was inquisitive as she watched me, clearly trying to piece together if there was more to my friendship with Shaw than I’d let on. “And . . .” she said.

“When we got closer, he got out and kind of tried to intimidate Bryan.” At least, that was how it seemed.

She rolled her eyes, letting out a huff. “God, how annoying. So he tried to pull that older-brother protective bullshit on you?”

That wasn’t what it felt like. It felt like the man I was fucking got all territorial and protective of me. But I couldn’t tell her any of that, so I nodded.

“Guess so.”

“Dick,” she muttered. Then her head snapped up and her gaze met mine. “Unless . . . he likes you.”

“No, I doubt that’s it.” I looked down into my coffee.

“Seriously. Think about it.” She sat up straighter in her seat. “Samantha’s been gone a long time.” Her brow crinkled in concentration.

“Yes, eight, almost nine months ago,” I said. But who’s counting?

“Right, eight months ago.”

“What’s your point?” I asked, taking another bite of cinnamon roll.

“So, that’s a long time, Chlo. He’s probably ready to move on. And maybe since you’re someone he’s always been close to, someone he feels comfortable with, he’d look to you for . . .” She waggled her eyebrows.

He’d look to me for what? Comfort? A rebound fling? It hurt to think her assumption was that I’d be some meaningless stepping stone on his reintroduction to dating. It implied I wasn’t good enough for him. Then again, maybe she was spot-on. It had been the better part of a year and I’d been there for Shaw in every way I could think of. And yet he was going out on dates with another woman.

I couldn’t really see myself moving on from him, not until I’d laid all my cards out on the table and forced him to consider us as something more. Not this secretive, behind-closed-doors affair we were having, but something real. I wanted a shot with Shaw, as crazy as that sounded.

Though I’d harbored secret fantasies about him for so long, when he got married, I took that totally off the table. And rightly so. He was a married man. I’d missed my chance and there was no way I’d ever do anything to sabotage him. I knew then I’d signed up for a lifetime of regrets and living with the words I’d never said aloud to another soul. I loved him.

I wasn’t going to push him as a new, grieving widower, but now? As Courtney pointed out, it had been eight months. And while that wasn’t very long, Shaw was the one showing signs of being ready. He not only was having a physical relationship with me, but also had let Jason set him up on a double date.

I indulged in the sticky, sweet dessert, bite after bite, until my stomach hurt.

“It’s Wednesday,” I said out of the blue.

Courtney nodded. “Hump day.”

We’d see about that.

• • •

By the time I got home late that afternoon, it was pouring rain.

“Turn on the news,” Jason called from the kitchen.

“Why?” I asked, grabbing the remote from his favorite armchair and hitting the On button.

“They’re going to upgrade that tropical storm to a hurricane warning, I heard,” he said, joining me in the living room and staring at the TV screen as a newscaster stood outside in a bright yellow raincoat, getting pelted with sideways rain.

We both listened quietly for a few minutes. Growing up here, we were so used to storms, they barely fazed us. The only thing it meant for certain was that business would suffer at the inn—people would cancel their reservations for the coming weekend, or their flights would be canceled when they got to the airport.

We rarely left town for storms, only driving up the coast into mainland Florida if they predicted a category-three storm or higher. We’d hunker down, stock up on batteries and water, and ride it out just like we had all the other times. When we were kids, sometimes it had even been fun, building pillow forts in the living room and playing flashlight tag through a dark house.

The phone call from our parents came right on cue.

“Hey, Mom,” I answered. “Yeah. We’re watching the weather report now.” I alternated between listening to the weatherman and my mother for a few minutes. “They’re saying it has the potential to turn into a category two. Should be fine, though.”