Her mind raced with possibilities, some more unsettling than others.
Peeking through the curtains, her breath caught. A figure from a past she’d considered closed.
He stood on the deck looking up at her, his features half-hidden in the shadows.
She raced down the stairs, stubbing her toe on the corner of the landing as she hurried for the door. She stood and reached for the knob, barely able to breathe.
“Reva, it’s me. Let me in.”
She creaked open the door letting a sliver of moonlight fall across her bare feet.
“Merritt? What are you doing here?”
3
Merritt looked up at her, his face a sonnet of suffering, lines etched deep not from age but from some unspoken weight. “I’m in trouble,” he told her, his voice breaking as he said it.
Reva’s breath caught. “Are you all right?” Her eyes scanned his torso for signs of injury. “Are you sick?”
He shook his head, dispelling the notion. “No.”
“Is it Hillary? The kids?”
Again, he shook his head.
Reva filled with confusion. “Then, what are you doing here?” The last time she’d seen Merritt Hardwick was the night they’d said goodbye forever—or so she’d thought.
Merritt rubbed the back of his head. He wore a turtleneck sweater and jeans and still looked…good. Standing near him sent a tiny quiver through her. “Come in,” she told him, wrapping her arms around her to ward off the chilly night air.
He obliged and followed her inside. Reva tightened her robe’s belt around her waist suddenly aware she had no makeup on and must look a sight. Her hand went involuntarily to her hair.
The motion brought a tiny smile to his lips, a smile that faded as quickly as it appeared.
She let her eyes roam her ex-fiancé, examining every feature in the light. Despite their seven-year separation, he hadn’t changed. He had the same lean build with muscles in all the right places. His warm, brown complexion, flawless. His hair was still shaved displaying his perfectly shaped head. And he still had those amazing dimples that gave him a boyish charm few women could resist.
She’d seen a few pictures of him over the past seven years. The media was generous the night he won his senate seat. He’d looked fabulous standing there waving at the cameras. So had his new wife, Hillary.
Reva felt her heart beat a little faster as their gazes met. Those familiar espresso-colored eyes flecked with gold cracked open her chest. All the years of knowing him—of him knowing her—rushed back. She froze in place hoping that by standing still she could stop the world from spinning.
She swallowed and tried to find her voice. “Please, sit.” She motioned for the sofa. “Would you like something to drink?”
Merritt appeared awkward as he made his way to the sofa and sank into a cushion. “Coffee…unless it’s too much trouble.”
“No. I’ll make some.” She could use a cup as well. Normally the caffeine would hinder her ability to sleep, but she knew better than to believe she was going to get any more rest tonight.
Reva padded into her vaulted kitchen and busied herself with stuffing a paper filter inside her Breville coffee maker.
“You still drink that coffee from the roastery in Columbia?” he asked, making uncomfortable small talk as he glanced around.
She almost hated to admit she did. “Yes.”
Her answer seemed to please him. “Good. That’s good.”
The drip coffee maker took forever. When the brew was finally ready, she carried two steaming mugs back into the living room. She handed one to Merritt and cautiously took a seat opposite him. “Now, do you want to tell me why you just showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night?”
He took a sip, taking forever to answer her pointed question. Finally, he directed his gaze back at her. “I’m in trouble.”
She looked at him over her mug. “You said that. Do you care to explain?”
