Page 58 of Wes

I shake my head at the way he likes to push her buttons. She’s confided in me that she’s curious about being intimate in a public place, that Logan would love to help her enact that fantasy. At the same time, she’s told me she’s afraid of trying.

When she leans down and kisses Logan, Wes whispers in my ear, “These two are giving me some naughty ideas. What do you think? Should we put on our own show?”

I snap my head back as if he’s slapped me. At least, reality has. I reply, in a low voice for his ears only, “See? That’s what I meant yesterday. Now you’re pushing too hard to sound like your old self, just to prove to me you haven’t changed. But that actually proves you have.”

He slumps against his chair. “I don’t get it. Yesterday, you complained I’ve been treating you like a rare flower. Which I admit rings true to an extent.”

I scoff. “Glad you sort of agree.”

“But if I suggest we do something sexy and fun, you accuse me of lying to myself. I’m confused.”

“That’s my point. We’re both confused, sending mixed messages, unsure how to act around each other. Case in point, what you did just now. Old Wes, the one before I told you my story, would’ve never asked me what to do. He would’ve pulled me onto his lap to tease the hell out of me.” I pause to give him time to reply.

His full lips have turned into a thin, flat line as he clams them shut. Stubborn man!

I rub a palm along the forearm he’s resting on the table. “We need time apart to straighten our heads, so our hearts can find their way back. And we will, I believe in us. We’re better together than we are on our own.”

He grips the fingers still stroking his arm. Squeezing them, he asks, “Can’t we assess, plan, whatever, together?”

Before I can reply that we have to take a step back to analyze things, a high-pitched whistle pierces the air. I lift my eyes and find Nick standing beside Logan. Ally’s face beams red. The couple stands up to leave, waving goodbye to us.

I wish them a good night.

Wes offers an ironic, “Sweet dreams.”

Sitting on the spot Logan has just vacated, Kim hollers, “Good night.” She stretches her arms across the table and grabs my hands. “The final numbers are in. The concert raised enough money to build two new headquarters for Welcoming Hills, if you want to.” She winks. “Or maybe just rent a place while you build a big one for the kids.”

“That is amazing. Thank you, Kim.”

“It was a team effort.”

I look back at Wes with a smile to rival the horizon. “I’m speechless.”

He grins, squeezing me against his chest. “Your dimple melts me.” He kisses my cheek with a loud smack.

I get up and go around the table thanking each person for their help in achieving this goal.

When I return to my spot, Wes and I don’t have a chance to discuss our relationship because there’s always a member of our small group talking to us.

When my body pleads for some rest, I whisper, “I’m going to the restroom. I think we should go home after that.”

“The restrooms are on the way to the front door. I’ll be waiting there when you get out.”

I find the discreet entrance with some difficulty. Once inside, I notice there’s only one locked stall. So, I lean against the counter to wait.

A tall brunette, in a black blouse and pants, pushes the door, enters, and stands behind me in line. Her green eyes sparkle as she scans my face.

“I’m sorry. You’re Maria Augusto from Welcoming Hills, right?” When I frown at the out-of-the-blue question, she hastily clarifies, “I’ve seen you on TV.”

Being recognize in public has been a side effect of the media coverage the orphanage got recently. I smile. “You’re right. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m Claire Williams, by the way.” She tosses her long hair over her shoulder. Her raspy voice becomes a whisper. “But I’m sure Wes has mentioned me to you.”

With my stomach free-falling from ten-thousand feet, I can’t think straight.

I mumble, “What are you talking about?”

She dismisses my angst with a casual shrug, but the smug on her face guts me. “You didn’t think Wes was dating only you, right?” She unlocks her phone, pulls up the photo gallery, and scrolls through it. “Every woman knows, from the get-go, that he doesn’t do monogamous. He makes it very clear.” She shoves the phone into my hands. “See for yourself.”

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