At the store, I decide to play a game. I’m writing about Angelique’s time in occupied France; maybe I should try getting into her headspace and catalog people’s appearances like she did. It can’t hurt.
A woman walks toward me, carrying a basket. She’s about thirty-five, my height, and very curvy. Her wavy hair is a brassy blond, but based on her dark roots, it’s not her natural shade. Her eyes are large, chocolate brown, and pretty. Her nose has a small bump on the bridge.
She walks past me before I can catalog anything else unique about her.
I head for the produce section and quickly select a couple of ripe peaches. I put them in my basket and look up. Olivia is inspecting the lettuce display while Nova is sitting in the seat of their shopping cart and cuddling her bunny.
A pang of longing hits me hard in the chest. I used to love taking Amelia grocery shopping and turning the trip into a scavenger hunt. I would cut out pictures of things we needed to buy, like bananas and grapes, and Amelia would help me find them.
I push the memory aside and walk to the lettuce display. “Hi, Olivia. Hi, Nova!” My heart squeezes at seeing the sweet little girl. Squeezes in both a happy and painful way. God, she reminds me so much of Amelia at that age.
Olivia’s gaze makes contact with mine, and her eyes widen. It only lasts a nanosecond, but it’s long enough for me to notice. “Uh. Hi.”
“Hi!” Nova says, a big grin on her cute face. She peers down at Bailey by my side with herService Dog in Trainingvest on. “Hi, doggy!”
Olivia scans the produce section, her gaze failing to find mine again.
An uncomfortable sensation squirms in my stomach. “How’s it going?” Uncertainty and worry twist my tone into something strained and high-pitched.
Olivia clears her throat, her attention on her daughter. “Fine.” She’s even twitcher than I used to be around Noah—before I realized he really is a good guy. “I should go now. It’s…it’s almost Nova’s nap time.”
At 5:00 p.m.?
Olivia hurries away, not giving me a second glance.
Weird. Does her behavior have something to do with Troy—and how she likes him as more than a friend?
I swallow at the other possibility. The scarier one.Cora. Cora is Olivia’s sister. She’s the one who wrote the article that mentioned I’m living under an assumed name in a small mountainous town in Oregon. She would have told Olivia about my old identity.
I haven’t seen Cora since the article was published. Thank God for that. I don’t need her writing another article about me. An article that could destroy everything I’ve worked hard to rebuild.
My eyes make contact with a pair of narrowed ones belonging to a man I don’t recognize. I quickly catalog his features—continuing my earlier game. Except this time it feels less like a game. Short black hair with the peppering of graying strands. Thin lips, well-shaped nose. Tanned skin that gives him a rugged appearance. Jeans and a faded navy-blue T-shirt.
In a way, he reminds me of Lincoln, my late husband’s younger brother.
I drop my gaze like an ostrich burying its head in the ground, hoping no one will notice it. I hurry around the store, collecting the rest of the items I came for, and pay for them.
I quickly load the groceries into the basket on the front of my bike and pedal home, feeling more exposed than when the article hit the newspaper twelve days ago.
Stop it.I’m letting my past traumas play tricks with my mind. That’s all. That man probably wasn’t looking at me. And Olivia’s in love with Troy, which is why she was acting weird. I’m overanalyzing things and coming to the wrong conclusion because of my fear and paranoia.
Robyn would agree I’ve got to stop doing that. I’ll never get better if I let the mind games win. And that means I’ll never get to see Amelia again.
* * *
The following morning,Troy’s warm body stirs next to me in my bed and pulls me from my dream.
He kisses my shoulder. “I wish I didn’t have to leave yet,” he murmurs on my skin. His hand slips under the covers and rests on my stomach, his palm flat, his fingers spread out. “But Garrett and Kellan will kill me if I’m late because I’m making love to my girlfriend.”
I laugh softly, the sleepy sound tickling deep in my chest. “Lucas won’t kill you?”
“I’m sure he’s still in bed making love to Simone. So let him face Garrett and Kellan’s ire instead of me this time.”
My laugh comes out louder than before and takes the form of a giggle. “Were they really that mad last Saturday when you were a few minutes late?” The early morning sex that made him tardy was definitely worth it from where I’d stood.
Troy’s finger taps a rhythmic pattern on my bare hip. The Morse code for ILU.Tap-tap. Tap-taaap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-taaap.“Of course. Can’t say I blame them, though. I’d be grumpy too if I didn’t have a beautiful woman in my bed to wake up to.” He kisses me on the lips, not giving me a chance to remind him that I’m not in his bed every night.
It’s a quick kiss because we both know we can’t stop once things get heated. And then he’ll be extremely late.
