Page 54 of Your Soul to Keep

She slowed as she got to me, then positioned herself between me and the window to block anyone’s view.

“I just wanted to let you know I think I understand. And if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

I nodded as I forced down the lump in my throat. “Thank you. That means a lot. More than you know.”

She reached out a hand, but I stepped back.

She nodded in understanding and lifted her hand in a wave instead as she backed up to go back into Susie Q’s. “We’ll get together next week. Just the two of us. If you want to. Anytime you want.”

My head bobbed up and down like a dashboard noddy doll. I choked out my thanks, spun on my heel, and headed toward my car wanting nothing more than to retreat to Nan’s house.

I was almost there when my cell rang.

Gabe had dropped Dylan off at his parents’ place and was waiting for me at his. The promise in his voice quickened my steps. Maybe sex shouldn’t be for comfort, but I’d take comfort in it just the same.

I parked on the street and walked up the path to Gabe’s driveway where he stood waiting for me, his hands shoved deep into his front pockets.

I stopped short and spun around slowly with my mouth hanging open.

His house looked like a dollhouse with its dusky blue siding, bright yellow door, and overflowing window box. The driveway sloped upward and ran along the side of the house to an unattached single car garage at the back of the property.

The front of the property boasted a rock retaining wall that leveled the front lawn and sported a white picket fence.

“Gabe,” I breathed with delight. “It’s a dollhouse.”

He stiffened beside me. “It’s a lot bigger than it looks.”

I glanced up at him in surprise. “Oh no, Gabe,” I shook my head, “this is a big compliment. Huge. I could not possibly love it more.”

His mouth began to curve into a smile. “Really?”

I raised my eyebrows and dipped my chin, unable to contain my delight. “Truly.”

He swallowed and bobbed his head. “Thank you.”

The way he saw himself broke my heart. It always had.

I linked my fingers through his and asked gently, “Want to give me the grand tour?”

With a gentle tug, he led me up to a small, covered porch that housed a two-seater swing. “I have plans to extend the porch to wrap around the side of the house. There’s not much room here for more than one person.”

“That swing looks perfect for both of us,” I countered.

The front door opened into a small foyer which emptied into the living area. The living room spread out to the left while the dining room and kitchen lay straight ahead.

Inside boasted light wood floors, high ceilings, and wide windows spilling light into every corner, including the framed photographs on the mantel of the trim, white, fireplace.

They called to me.

And I answered.

There were pictures of Dylan alone and with her grandparents, as well as one of Gabe’s parents on their own. But one stood out from the rest. A woman with long dark hair and light brown eyes smiled at the camera, a jolly toddler cradled in her arms.

Wrapping my arms around my torso, I fought the shudder that ran through my body. Turning to face Gabe, I raised a nonchalant eyebrow.

He nodded, his gaze wary. “That’s Aunt Zoe. Dylan’s mom.”

“She’s pretty,” I commented.

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