Page 63 of The Meaning Of You

And still we sat.

For how long, I wasn’t sure. Long enough to set my heart skipping and kindle heat further south. Long enough to know exactly how much trouble I was in with this man.

Nick cleared his throat and leaned forward, elbows on the table, grey eyes almost black in the dim light. “So, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I gave a soft snort. “You’re going to have to expand on that, all things considered.”

Nick’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and those cheeks pinked once again. “About the identity thing,” he qualified, adding a rueful smile.

I nodded. “In that case, if you’re thinking that Davis was possibly researching how to change your identity for his new thriller and that he met with Lachlan King as part of that, then yes.”

Nick stared at me for a long moment, his face a mask. Then his head started to nod and his eyes filled. “So, he wasn’t having an affair, then?” It was almost a plea.

“It’s another explanation,” I said by way of an answer, because even if we were right, it didn’t completely rule an affair out of the equation. “But we need more information.”

Nick was still nodding, although he seemed unaware of it. “You’re right. We’re not there yet. But it issomething,right? It explains a lot of what I found—the desk calendar, the documents, the emails. And what if the passport and licence were part of his research, wanting examples. He was a perfectionist like that.”

“It would explain the expiry and birth dates. Whoever created the documents made sure Davis couldn’t use them.”

Nick pressed his palms to his eyes, then slammed a fist on the table. “I was so sure he was cheating on me. I should’ve trusted him. I should’ve known. I’m such a dick. You told me not to jump to conclusions.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his expression desperately miserable.

“Stop it.” I put my hand over his on the table. “You couldn’t know either way. You said that Davis always told you who he was talking to and what he was doing, but he didn’t this time and we still need to understand why. All you had to go on was what you found, and it didn’t look good. The idea he was having an affair wasn’t a stretch. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Nick, but as of right now, we don’t know anything for sure. That includes whoever this J person is, and why someone seems inordinately focused on stealing something from you.”

Nick locked eyes and I raised both brows in question. He nodded, drawing a slow, deep breath, steadier now. Finally, he spoke, “So, you still think the break-ins and the guy today are connected?”

I shrugged. “It’s more that I’d like proof they’re not.”

“Right, then.” He reached for his phone and spun the laptop back to face him.

I sat straight in my chair and jumped in, “Nick? What are you doing?”

He began to type into the search engine. “I’m going to call this Lachlan King and find out what the hell he and Davis were doing.”

“You can’t.” I pushed the laptop shut, sandwiching his hands. “You have no proof this is even the right guy.”

He pushed it open again and shot me a withering look. “Do you really believe there’s another Lachlan K with ties to identity fraud involved in this?” He started scrolling. “Come on, Madigan. You’re not that stupid.”

I swallowed the urge to tell him to watch his mouth and pulled my chair closer instead. “We’re gonna have a conversation about that word choice later. Right now, you need to think about the best way to approach this with him so that you get as much information as possible. What if theywerehaving an affair?”

“Yes!” Nick jabbed a finger at the screen. “Got it.” He turned sideways to face me, his phone in his hand. “As for my approach, I’m thinking I’ll go with, ‘Hi, arsehole. I’m Davis Minton’s widower. I was wondering if you were having an affair with my husband before his accident?’ How does that work for you?”

I groaned and snatched the phone from his hand. “Don’t be a child.”

“I’m not.” He snatched it back and began stabbing numbers on the screen. “I’m behaving like a grieving husband who’slooking for answers. Besides, it’s the number of the newspaper he works for, not his personal one. I probably can’t do more than leave a message.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I fell back in my chair. “You couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

Another disdainful look. “No. Would you? This is about my husband and what our relationship actually was under all the secrets. It’s the only thing I have left of him, and I want to know. I don’t expect you to understand. Just don’t get in my way.” His eyes squeezed shut like he might’ve regretted his words, but he didn’t apologise. Instead, he put the phone to his ear and turned away.

I’d been dismissed.

The message behind it clear as a bell.

Nick might like me, but I was pretty sure he didn’t want to. Hardly news.

I swallowed the disappointment and anger and walked our empty plates to the sink. Why was I bothering with a man who was so messed up he didn’t know what he wanted from one minute to the next?

I glanced sideways to where Nick sat at the dining room table and sighed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t warned me.

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