One thing his weird little apartment had going for it—it was warm and cozy compared to the chilly spring night outside.
He dropped her bag on the bed, and she unzipped it, only to discover a new problem. She didn’t really have anything to sleep in. She’d packed a change of clothes, but it was another pair of skinny jeans and a silk blouse. A thong and an underwire bra.
Nothing comfortable.
She paused. “Would you happen to have—”
He yanked open a drawer and tossed a t-shirt and a pair of shorts onto the bed. “Are you hungry?”
Once upon a time, she’d have turned and given him a saucy look, dragging her gaze down his body before saying something like,starving, and then they’d tumble onto the bed.
Now, her stomach growled. The cookie she had earlier wasn’t enough to get her through the night, and she wasn’t stubborn enough to pretend it was.
She nodded mutely.
“Get changed,” he said softly. “I’ll find something. Do you still like eggs?”
Another quiet nod. It was all she could manage.
The bedroom door creaked shut, and she was alone. She peeled off her jeans, and her shirt. Her clothes smelled stale, like flop sweat and something medicinal from the hospital. Her underwear, too, so they had to go as well. Stiffly, she folded her panties into her bra, and tucked that inside her shirt, then wrapped her jeans around the whole thing and tucked the bundle onto a chair in the corner.
Like she was at the gynaecologist’s office instead of in her husband’s bedroom.
With a sigh, she pulled on Josh’s shorts and tugged the drawstring tight. Then she lifted the shirt, and before she pulled it over her head, she pressed her face into the soft cotton.
It smelled clean, but not like Josh. NotherJosh.
What was she doing?
She yanked the tee over her head and smoothed it down her torso. A bit big, but comfortable and it didn’t smell like she’d panic-sweated her way through a snowstorm in it.
It wasn’t some fantasy trigger that magically erased the last three years, unfortunately.
Or, maybe fortunately. Maybe it was for the best that she not get swept up in an impossible idea.
From the other side of the door, she heard the sizzle of butter in a pan.
Food.
Then sleep. Then… Then she would get out of Pine Harbour and leave Josh alone forever.
* * *
Josh heardher step out of his bedroom, but he didn’t look over. Wanted to. The temptation to have that image seared on his retinas was nearly overwhelming.
But the last time he’d gotten over her sudden absence from his life, he had to sell his car to start sleeping through the night.
He couldn’t sell his garage.
When he saw the slight sway of her body just at the periphery of his vision, he reached out with his foot and nudged one of his two chairs out from the small table. “Sit.”
Monica sat.
He finished her omelette and slid it onto a plate. Put it in front of her, then turned back to the stove to make one for himself. “You can start eating,” he tossed over his shoulder when he didn’t hear her pick up her cutlery.
“I’ll wait. I should take another painkiller.”
Her chair scraped against the linoleum.
