Page 97
“What about your book? I thought you still had edits to finish.”
“Done.”
That surprised him. “When the hell did you manage that?”
She shrugged. “A little here, a little there. I sent it back to the publisher for final approval a few days ago.”
He stared at her for a second. “So let me get this straight. You came here to take care of Edith, got sentenced to community service, filmed several episodes of a television show, helped put on a musical, redesigned part of an animal rescue, and finished editing a book.”
“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds exhausting.”
“It was exhausting just listing it.”
Her laugh pulled a smile from him, but it disappeared almost as quickly.
God, he would miss that sound. And not just that. Somehow, he'd gotten used to Amanda being part of his days. The late-night phone and video calls when they couldn't find a way to see each other. Dinners with Rissa and Edith. Watching her become friends with people he'd known for years. Their secret trips to the cottage. Waking up beside her and stealing a little time together before returning to their separate lives.
Even the uncertainty of when he’d see her next had become something he looked forward to because there had always been a next time. But those were almost gone.
After his wife died, he’d spent over eight years without another woman in his life and eventually stopped thinking anything was missing from it. He had Rissa, his family, his friends, and a job that took up more hours than it should. He’d been fine.
Then Amanda came roaring into town in a blue Corvette, and somewhere between pulling her over that first day and sitting across from her tonight, fine stopped being enough.
The truth had probably been staring him in the face for a while.
He'd fallen in love with her.
Well, hell.
That complicated the shit out of everything.
“You got quiet.”
He brought his attention back to her. One finger traced through the condensation on her glass as she watched him from across the table.
“Just thinking.”
“That can be dangerous.”
“Usually is.”
A hint of amusement remained on her face for another second before fading. Maybe she could tell where his mind had gone. Or maybe Wednesday had been occupying more of her thoughts than she’d let on.
He glanced toward the windows again. “I’m going to miss you.”
When he turned back to her, she was watching him. “I'm going to miss you, too.”
He’d expected the answer. That didn’t make it any easier to hear. “What happens Wednesday?”
Her brow furrowed. “I go home.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Understanding replaced the confusion on her face. Their agreement had seemed reasonable when they'd barely known each other. But things had changed.
“We said this was temporary because that was the sensible thing to do,” he said. “You had a date you were leaving, and neither of us was looking for anything complicated.”
“And now?”
