Page 20 of Dirty Secrets

“I’d like you to play a little game with me.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Okayyy…?”

“I’d like you to imagine your perfect day. Not a big celebration day or anything, just a normal, average day. A partly sunny Tuesday next spring, for instance.”

Her fingers tap on the table, her beautiful blue eyes fixed on me. “What’s this about?”

“I’ll explain in a moment. Just please describe your perfect day.”

She shrugs, then stares at the wall beside us for a moment, thinking. “I’ve always liked getting up early. So I’d probably get up around six, make a cup of tea, then write in my journal and read for about an hour.”

“That sounds nice. Keep going.”

“I’d have a small breakfast. Give the kitchen a quick tidy. Then go to work.”

“Would you be working at home on this perfect day?”

Jocelyn grins. “Of course. Working in your pajamas or a giant ratty sweatshirt is the best.”

“That’s what I thought. Go on.”

She stares into space again. “I’d curl up somewhere with my laptop. Do a few hours of work. Have a small but delicious lunch. Work a bit more in the afternoon.” She sighs. “If I was only working on one or two projects, I could finish at four-thirty and have time to make a nice dinner.”

“But since this is a perfect day, you would be finished at four o’clock so you could get ready to gooutto dinner, right?”

“Oh! Sure. That would work.”

I reach for her hand. “And in the evening?”

“You talk as if I actually have my evenings free!” she laughs. “Seriously, I’m a homebody. I like to go out to dinner or a movie now and then. Maybe dinner with a handful of friends. But usually it’s just a movie at home. Or a good book.”

“What about board game night with a glass of wine in front of the fire?”

Her eyes light up. “That sounds lovely.”

“It really does.” I squeeze her fingers. “Jocelyn, that’s the kind of life I’d like too. Whether I had five dollars in the bank or five million.” I give her a half shrug. “Okay, I’d go out to dinner a little more since I’m not broke. And we could buy a new board game every month.”

She shakes her head. “Everyone says that money will never change them, but?—”

My hand darts out to place a finger over her lips. “Sweetheart, I don’t want to talk about everyone. I want to talk about you and me.” My thumb lightly caresses the side of her face as I squeeze her hand.

“I’ve always enjoyed working,” I explain. “Even if I did take early retirement, I wouldn’t spend my life lying around on exotic beaches. I’d just pass the business on to my kids, and work in my own garage at home.”

We’re quiet for a moment, simply gazing into each other’s eyes.

“I know you read a lot,” I say softly. “I know there are stories of people getting married just to get their inheritance early from their parents. Or people discovering their family secrets and having some huge mid-life crisis. You already know that’s not me.”

My thumb drags along her bottom lip, then I tug at the corner of it to turn her mouth up into a smile. “I do have one secret, though.”

“Yes?”

Leaning in, my lips brush her ear. “Yes. But I don’t know if it’s the kind of secret I should tell you here at a coffee shop. Nosy researchers might be listening and writing everything down.”

Finally she lets out a real belly laugh.

“It’s more the sort of thing that I should tell you when we’re surrounded by moonlight and roses, and all of that stuff.”

She grows quiet again, then whispers, “If you’re saying what I think you’re saying, I’m pretty sure I have a similar secret. I’m just…”

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