Page 41 of Tell Me Something True

His right eye twitched.

Conversations with Verity had that effect. A nerve-wracking, patience-straining one.

“Oh, only because I wanted to have breakfast with my brother on his day off.” She held the cup out to him. “That’s all.”

He took the mug.

That’s all.

Uh huh.

“Thanks.” Sipping the coffee, he nodded at the open bakery box on the counter. “What’s all this?”

“I told you. Breakfast.” She put two sausage/egg/cheese croissant sandwiches—his favorite—on a plate and handed them to him. Then picked up a bagel with lox and cream cheese. “You’re welcome.”

He narrowed his eyes. Something was up. Verity didn’t get up early just to share breakfast with him. Not when they met for lunch every Friday. He peered into the box which still held two raspberry Danish and two large, thick chocolate chip cookies.

More of his favorites.

He sighed. Shit. This wasn’t going to be good.

“What do you want?”

Chewing, she held up her finger for him to wait, then swallowed. “Nothing. God. It’s not a bribe which I’m sure you’re just dying to point out to me is illegal and immoral and blah blah blah.”

He picked up one of the sandwiches. “I never blah blah blah about the law,” he said dryly, then took a bite. Unlike her, he spoke around his mouthful because with Verity, you had to get your words in while you could. “I might yada yada, but never blah blah blah.”

“This” —she made a dramatic sweeping gesture at the food— “is a gift. From me. To you. Enjoy.”

“A gift.” He took another bite. “For me. For absolutely no reason.”

If that was true, he’d eat his badge next.

“Fine,” Verity grumbled with a dramatic toss of her hands—except she was still holding her bagel and capers and a smoked salmon flew through the air. “I’m sorry!”

He got a napkin from the bakery box and scooped up the mess from the floor. “No problem.”

“I’m not talking about that. Though if you’d get a dog, you wouldn’t have to clean up dropped food. People who have dogs are happier, have reduced anxiety, decreased blood pressure and lower stress levels all of which you could use. Plus, a dog would make this house feel homier and less like a bachelor pad and if you had someone to come home to, you might be less inclined to picking up strange women to ease your loneliness.”

Tabitha’s words describing him last night floated through his brain.

He was… lost. Lost and terrified of being alone.

He squeezed the napkin in his fist.

Maybe she and Verity were right. Maybe that’s why he’d asked Tabitha to come home with him. Because he’d grown increasingly tired of one-night stands. Because he felt stuck in his life.

Because he was so fucking tired of being alone.

“If I get a dog,” he said, “will you swear to never, ever again bring up what happened earlier?”

“Uh… no. My point is that I’m not sorry about the food on your floor, I’m sorry about last weekend.”

Last weekend she’d been grounded and was supposed to go home after working at Binge.

Instead, she’d gone to a party.

Had tried to go to a party, he amended. She hadn’t made it. Had swerved to miss a deer and gotten stuck on a dark, deserted road.

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