Page 124 of David's Love

While I’m grateful for having the liberty to dress whichever way I like the idea that we have people with us makes me nervous.

“I will.”

“Good.”

He smiles and leaves a kiss on my hair.

“I’ll be in the kitchen. I need to make a few calls.”

He checks his watch.

“We’ll leave in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be ready,” I say, pushing up onto my toes to kiss his lips.

Smiling, he winks at me and pivots to the kitchen.

I stare at his broad back before focusing on my suitcase. Everything’s in. I only need a few clothes, my laptop, my tablet, my shoes, and my toiletries.

I wear wool pants, a button-down dress shirt, and a soft sweater.

That will do.

The tension in my chest is a reminder of all the unresolved things traveling with me.

If we leave now and return next week, I’ll be tossing and turning every night, thinking about what I might have missed by not reading those letters.

His voice rings outside as he talks on the phone, and it only takes me seconds to make up my mind.

I crunch down and look under the bed. The box is there. My eyes fly to the door before I pull it out from under the bed.

Suddenly, the house is quiet, and I feel his stare on me.

He’s no longer on the phone.

“What’s that?” he asks from the doorway.

I turn to stone, spinning thoughts.

Shit.

At the last moment, I stifle my reaction and don’t push the box back. That would be incriminating.

Instead, I straighten, with the box in my hand, a winning idea in my head.

“Do you think we can stop by my mother’s house? I need to leave this with her. It’s the money, and I don’t want to leave it here. She might put it to good use.”

A soft smile flashes through his eyes.

He seems proud of me, and I love that feeling.

Under no circumstances do I want to let him down, although I’m playing with things I shouldn’t be playing.

“Sure,” he says. “But we need to leave now.”

ELIZABETH

I callmy mother a few times before getting to her place. She’s not answering. David is still on the phone, hopefully not aware of my struggles.

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