“No, I’m not.”
It takes about two seconds for the meaning of his words to sink in before embarrassment drapes over me.
It’s never good to assume things.
Never.
I always teach my students not to do that.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I murmur.
He nods his head in acceptance, his grin translucent, almost gone.
“Thank you,” he quietly says.
I don’t feel like moving away from the topic, although I know I should, but the emotions inside me make my heart spin in turmoil.
Why do I have to feel this way?
Because the new information puts things in perspective, and I’m already caught in our little story of lust and something else.
I don’t want to be the rebound woman, and yet, I don’t want to pull away from him.
I don’t know how much he’s still affected by his wife’s passing and whether he’s made peace with it––he probably has––or if he still feels unmoored.
People process these things differently, and even people like my ex, who has the emotional intelligence of a rock, can still surprise you. Hint at his latest meltdown.
Ewan seems all right, so this must not be a recent story.
“You married young?” I ask.
“Yes. Very young. How about you?”
“Not so young. I mean… We’d been only married for a couple of years when I got divorced last year.”
I go quiet, and my silence quickly becomes awkward, so my gaze trails away from him when his hand finds mine, and I move my focus back to him.
“Scarlett…” he says in a low nasal voice that makes me quiver inside. His eyes drill deep into mine. “You have nothing to worry about when it comes to my past. I made peace with it a long time ago.”
I look at him, frozen.
WhatdoI have to worry about then?
“You wanted to know more about me, and I told you. I didn’t want you to think I’m not a free man.”
A few moments pass while his grip slackens.
“On the same note, I wouldn’t have considered messing with you if I felt you were still attached to the idea of your ex-husband. So chill. Everything is in the past now. I had a good marriage, and it ended in tragedy. Life has our stories written beforehand, and there is nothing we can do about it. So, rest easy.”
I try to.
His eyes hold mine while I struggle to control my fears. Despite everything he’s said, something makes me weary about all this, and I can’t tell what it is. And I won’t find out by staring into his blue-green eyes.
“Do you want to go? I’m finished,” I say.
“Yes, sure.”
A few moments later, he pays for our food and drinks, and we return to our ride.
