Page 90 of One Kiss Isn't Enough

“I didn’t say he was.”

It’s quiet for a moment and I debate saying what’s on my mind. I nearly don’t but I decide I may never have another chance, so I should take it.

“You shouldn’t have mentioned my past. The foster…situation. Without it, you would have seemed like less of a bad guy.”

“Without it, I wouldn’t have known whether or not you knew.”

I hum in agreement, nodding although I don’t take my eyes off of his.

“What do I owe this visit to?” he asks when I go quiet, taking him in and trying to see where he falls. It changes with every passing minute. “Did you have a message for me?” he questions.

“As if I’d do their dirty work? No, I don’t have a message. I’m not privy to those conversations, Mr. Walsh. As you know, I appear to be the last to know most things around here.” Lying comes easier than I thought it would. In fact, I kind of like it. There’s a devilish spark that riddles its way through me as he asks me, “And you’re okay with that?”

I’m not okay with it. But that’s one thing that’s changing. Daniel’s right. I need to know. I was always meant to be a part of this. I need this.

Reaching into my purse, I pull out a Tupperware of fresh-baked cookies.

“For you,” I say while offering the small container. “I made a larger batch, but not all of them survived.”

He rises out of his seat but stops short of taking them for only a moment before accepting the gift. “Snickerdoodles?”

I shrug and say, “Cinnamon makes people happy.”

“You made me cookies?”

“I was having a bad day; I was short with you and I apologize.”

“I apologize as well; I sometimes forget that not every conversation is an interrogation.”

Looking at the clock on the wall above his head, I see five minutes has already passed. Half of me is surprised Daniel isn’t here, waiting behind me. The other half is relieved he’s given me this. I can handle this, and I want him to know it.

Patting the lid of the Tupperware, I offer him a smile and say, “I hope you like them. And I hope you know where I stand now.”

His statement keeps me from turning and leaving like I’d planned. “I’m just wondering what you see in him.” Officer Walsh doesn’t look at me with curiosity; it’s simply matter-of-fact. “From what I read, you had a hard upbringing, you fell into step with a group of brothers who took care of your problems, but then you took off. You’d gotten away, you made a new life, and then you came back… Why? Why come back to this?”

“To them, you mean.” It’s not a question that comes from me so easily, it’s a correction. “You obviously don’t know them well…yet,” I add. “If you knew them, you’d know why.”

His chair groans as he heaves back. It gives with the pressure of his back pushing against it and then he clicks his tongue. He seems to debate his words and then he jokes, of all things, lightening the tension, “It’s because he’s good-looking, isn’t it?”

I let a small laugh leave me before I playfully respond, “He’s handsome. He has a really charming smile…but you should hear him laugh.”

My heart does a funny thing at the memory of it from just the other night.

The officer’s rough chuckle doesn’t compare in the least. He’s a handsome man, on the right side of the law, with power and a strength that any woman would find attractive. But he’s not my damaged hero. He’s not a part of my family.

He’s a pawn in their game and I’m content in doing my part.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asks me just as I turn my back to him, and my smile nearly falters. Nearly, but I hold it in place.

Turning back around and leaning forward, I have to lower my voice and whisper as though what I’m telling him is a secret. “I’m absolutely certain.”

I leave without another word, but before the door closes to his office, I hear him say, “I really hope you are.”

The ghost of a smile on my lips doesn’t leave; it stays right where it is even though I feel a chill down my spine. It grows colder with every step. Among the clatter of keyboards, phones ringing, and the white noise of the officers and secretaries talking, I hear the click of heels clearly. They’re in time with the beat of my heart.

It’s not until I’m outside of the double-doored station and a gust of wind blows my hair over my shoulders, tickling up my neck, that the chill leaves me. With a deep breath, I search for the car, finding it quickly, with Daniel leaning against it.

He is my home. He is my person. Beside him is where I belong, and I’ll do whatever it takes to stay there. Every sacrifice it demands, I’ll make.

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