couldn’t afford for him to miss anything.
Three hours later, he looked up to see Cruz smother a yawn. Sam reached over and snagged the half of the file that Cruz had been reading. He stuffedit into his backpack. “Go home,” he said.
“We could probably both use some sleep,” Cruz said, pushing his chair back from his desk.
Sam didn’t want to close his eyes ever again. But he nodded and the two men walked out to the mostly deserted parking lot. He drove home. When he got there, he sat in his dark car, staring up at his dark windows.
He was so weary. Not just from tonight.From everything. From years of pretending that he didn’t mind coming home to a dark, empty house. From the stress of being slap-happy for his brother Jake who was going to be a father any day, but knowing deep down that it wasn’t ever going to happen for him. From being afraid, truly afraid, to ever love again.
Whoever had said that it was better to have loved and lost had never really lost.It was better just to make do, to keep on pretending that this was the life you picked, wanted even.
Sam let himself into the quiet house. The first thing he noticed was that Nightmare didn’t come to greet him. The second, that Claire had washed the few dirty dishes that had been in the sink. Quietly, he walked down the hallway. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to check on her, but hecouldn’t make himself go past.
He pushed open the door and froze. She was wearing a nightgown. It was white, cotton, and probably respectable when she stood up. But right now, she was lying on her side and it had ridden up practically to her waist. He could see the feminine curve of her upper leg, the bright blue silk of her underwear.
And like some goofball, he heard the old playgroundchant: I see London, I see France. I see Claire’s underpants. Nightmare, who lay at the end of the bed, cocked his head as if he couldn’t wait to see where this was going. Sam, feeling a little light-headed, backed out of the room.
Nowhere. It was going nowhere.
* * *
S AM CHECKED ON C LAIRE three times during the night and was careful to keep his eyes focused shoulder-height andabove. It would have been nice if she’d snored and drooled, but she slept like a lady, her mouth shut and her breathing even.
At six, when he poked his head in the door, she had her eyes open, and he felt about as edgy as he’d felt the night before when he’d tucked his tail between his legs and run. “Good morning,” he said. “How do you feel?”
“Rested,” she admitted. “You were right,it’s a pretty comfortable futon.” She smiled at Nightmare, who lay on top of the blanket, across her lower legs.
“Get off,” he said. “You’re a nuisance.”
She reached out and patted the dog. “You’re fine. Don’t listen to him.”
Sam sighed. “Not to worry. It hasn’t been a problem in the past.”
She laughed and then, as if she suddenly remembered where she was, she stopped. “I sortof crashed last night,” she said. “I didn’t even hear you come home.”
“You’d had a big day,” he said.
She chewed on the corner of her pretty lip. “Any thoughts about who might have made the call?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, but we’ll figure it out.”
She nodded. He wasn’t sure she was convinced or if she just didn’t have the energy to argue about it. Maybe the time, he decided,when she swung her tanned legs over the side of the bed.
“I guess I better get dressed for work,” she said. “Is that coffee?” she asked hopefully, sniffing the air.
“Yes,” he said. “I can get you some,” he said, grateful for the excuse to move, to do something.
“I’ll get it,” she said. “Please don’t wait on me. Just pretend I’m not here.”
Hard to do when she’d changed the look,the feel and especially the smell of his house. The spare room had a spicy, woman scent. Hell, even Nightmare seemed to smell better.
“If you like pancakes, I made some batter,”
Three hours later, he looked up to see Cruz smother a yawn. Sam reached over and snagged the half of the file that Cruz had been reading. He stuffedit into his backpack. “Go home,” he said.
“We could probably both use some sleep,” Cruz said, pushing his chair back from his desk.
Sam didn’t want to close his eyes ever again. But he nodded and the two men walked out to the mostly deserted parking lot. He drove home. When he got there, he sat in his dark car, staring up at his dark windows.
He was so weary. Not just from tonight.From everything. From years of pretending that he didn’t mind coming home to a dark, empty house. From the stress of being slap-happy for his brother Jake who was going to be a father any day, but knowing deep down that it wasn’t ever going to happen for him. From being afraid, truly afraid, to ever love again.
Whoever had said that it was better to have loved and lost had never really lost.It was better just to make do, to keep on pretending that this was the life you picked, wanted even.
Sam let himself into the quiet house. The first thing he noticed was that Nightmare didn’t come to greet him. The second, that Claire had washed the few dirty dishes that had been in the sink. Quietly, he walked down the hallway. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to check on her, but hecouldn’t make himself go past.
He pushed open the door and froze. She was wearing a nightgown. It was white, cotton, and probably respectable when she stood up. But right now, she was lying on her side and it had ridden up practically to her waist. He could see the feminine curve of her upper leg, the bright blue silk of her underwear.
And like some goofball, he heard the old playgroundchant: I see London, I see France. I see Claire’s underpants. Nightmare, who lay at the end of the bed, cocked his head as if he couldn’t wait to see where this was going. Sam, feeling a little light-headed, backed out of the room.
Nowhere. It was going nowhere.
* * *
S AM CHECKED ON C LAIRE three times during the night and was careful to keep his eyes focused shoulder-height andabove. It would have been nice if she’d snored and drooled, but she slept like a lady, her mouth shut and her breathing even.
At six, when he poked his head in the door, she had her eyes open, and he felt about as edgy as he’d felt the night before when he’d tucked his tail between his legs and run. “Good morning,” he said. “How do you feel?”
“Rested,” she admitted. “You were right,it’s a pretty comfortable futon.” She smiled at Nightmare, who lay on top of the blanket, across her lower legs.
“Get off,” he said. “You’re a nuisance.”
She reached out and patted the dog. “You’re fine. Don’t listen to him.”
Sam sighed. “Not to worry. It hasn’t been a problem in the past.”
She laughed and then, as if she suddenly remembered where she was, she stopped. “I sortof crashed last night,” she said. “I didn’t even hear you come home.”
“You’d had a big day,” he said.
She chewed on the corner of her pretty lip. “Any thoughts about who might have made the call?”
He shook his head. “Not yet, but we’ll figure it out.”
She nodded. He wasn’t sure she was convinced or if she just didn’t have the energy to argue about it. Maybe the time, he decided,when she swung her tanned legs over the side of the bed.
“I guess I better get dressed for work,” she said. “Is that coffee?” she asked hopefully, sniffing the air.
“Yes,” he said. “I can get you some,” he said, grateful for the excuse to move, to do something.
“I’ll get it,” she said. “Please don’t wait on me. Just pretend I’m not here.”
Hard to do when she’d changed the look,the feel and especially the smell of his house. The spare room had a spicy, woman scent. Hell, even Nightmare seemed to smell better.
“If you like pancakes, I made some batter,”
Similar Books
