Page 104 of Strictly the Worst

Jared hadn’t been there when we got there. There was only Melissa, looking stressed and upset because she couldn’t get ahold of him.

It was strange watching her pace on the phone, because once upon a time that was me. I was the one waiting and wondering, I guess while he was in bed with her.

The weird thing was that I didn’t get any satisfaction from seeing her so agitated. I just felt sad for her, because some people never change. It was like the final tiny thread linking me to my old life, my old relationship, had dropped away.

Thanks to this man sitting next to me.

I’d offered to take Zoe back home with me, but Melissa insisted she stay. I suspect she’s still in that zone of trying to prove she’s a good partner. And since Zoe’s schedule was all planned out for her being at Jared’s for school tomorrow, I agreed.

An hour later, Zoe sent me an update to tell me that her dad was home.

She found it funny but I’m not sure I ever could.

“What are you thinking about?” Linc asks softly, his arm around me as we sip at our glasses of wine.

“That I shouldn’t be drinking good wine when I have to get up for work tomorrow.”

“So stay in bed all day with me. We’ll video call Roman and tell him we’re playing hookey for love.”

The thought of Roman’s face if he heard that makes me giggle. “I can’t. I’ve got meetings.”

“Yeah, me too. But we have tomorrow night.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here until Wednesday?”

“Of course I am.” He brushes my jaw with his lips. “If I had my way you’d be here until your whole home was ready for human habitation.”

“We’ve managed up until now,” I point out.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have me then.”

I tilt my head up and look at him.

He sighs. “Go on then.”

“Are you a mind reader now?” I ask him.

Linc lifts a brow. “I’m a Tessa Carmichael reader. And I know you want to ask me about last night. It was just a nightmare. I get them occasionally. I’m blaming Zoe for making me play video games all night.”

He’s making light of it. I thought he would. He’s a man who doesn’t like to show the chink in his armor. He plasters all the cracks with humor, hoping nobody will see underneath.

But I’m like a dog with a bone when I latch onto something.

“You had a nightmare when we were in Exuma too.”

His expression betrays his surprise. “Did I?”

“Yes. The first night. You were sweating buckets on the sofa bed.”

Linc swallows, his Adam’s apple undulating in his throat. His profile is illuminated by the moonlight. “I get them sometimes.”

“How often?” I ask him, curious.

“A few times a year,” he says, staring into the distance. “I guess more often recently.”

“Twice in a few weeks,” I agree. “Is it the same nightmare or something different?”

His lips part as he exhales softly. “The same one.”

---