Page 35 of Before You Go

Shoving those thoughts out of my head, I open the bathroom door and step back into the hall. It’s quiet—no TV playing or even music on in the background to fill the silence. I hope he didn’t go to bed, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did since it’s late. Or late for me since I’m usually in bed by nine most nights unless I’m painting.

When I step around the corner of the hall, I find Dayton sitting on his big, dark leather couch, wearing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, with his bare feet up on the coffee table and a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, studying a stack of papers in his hand. Lots more papers are strewn across the top of the coffee table, where there is a can of soda resting on a coaster, and PJ is asleep at Dayton’s side, his free hand sliding through my pup’s long fur.

I don’t know if I make a noise or if he just senses me, but he lowers the papers he’s looking over and meets my gaze before his eyes slowly wander over my face and down my body, then lift back to mine.

“How do you feel?” It’s hard to think or even breathe. Things would probably be easier if I wasn’t so attracted to him, and he didn’t intrigue me as much as he does. But I am attracted to him, and he does intrigue me. He’s like a painting in my head that hasn’t been finished, and I want to work on it until it’s done—until I figure out exactly what makes him, him.

“Not as tired,” I tell him, watching PJ lift his head and look at me. He doesn’t jump up and get off the couch to greet me like I expect him to. Instead, he rolls to his back, giving Dayton his belly. “I’m sorry for sleeping for so long.”

“Why? You needed it.”

“Yeah,” I agree quietly.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but I’ll get out of your hair and go home. I’ll probably have some toast and go back to bed.”

“I have bread here.” He leans forward, placing the papers he’s holding down on the coffee table before he stands. “And a toaster.” He takes off his glasses. I can’t decide if he looks better with them or without them.

“Oh, nooow you want to come see me.” I smile when PJ hops off the couch and scampers over to me. “Was he okay?”

I pick him up, then tip my head back to Dayton as he steps toward me.

“Yep, we’re buds now.” He rubs the top of PJ’s head.

“How did you pull that off?”

“I bribed him with bacon and let him run off-leash in my brother’s private backyard in the back of the building.”

“So you spoiled him?” I laugh, and he smiles. The sight of it causes my stomach to fill with butterflies.

“What matters is we’re cool now.” He moves his hand from the top of PJ’s head and touches my jaw with the tips of his fingers, sending a spiral of sensations through my body before he lets it fall away. “Come sit and eat something.”

I don’t put up a fight. I like being in his presence; it’s easy, and there’s something about him that makes me feel weirdly safe, even if I hardly know him. I follow him to the open kitchen, where he pulls out a stool from the island for me. Taking a seat, I run my fingers through PJ’s fur as Dayton gets a loaf of bread out of one cabinet and a toaster from another.

“Were you working on your case?” I ask him as he opens the fridge.

“Yeah, I want to have most of the documents gone through by Monday so I can schedule appointments to meet with the family of the victim and the detectives who opened the case.” He carries a jug of orange juice over to me.

“Is it normal to meet with the family?”

“Yes, we like to fill them in on what is about to take place. But in this case, I’d like to have everyone on the same page since there is a lot of doubt surrounding the person who allegedly committed the crime, and I don’t want any of them siding with the defense when we bring charges forward.” He fills a glass with orange juice and slides it over to me.

“Thanks.” I pick it up and take a sip, watching him put two pieces of bread in the toaster.

“I need to talk to you about something.” He comes back to stand in front of me, resting his hands on the counter, his T-shirt stretching under the strain of his muscular torso.

“Okay.” I brace myself. I don’t know if it’s the expression on his face or just the way he’s holding himself, but I have a feeling whatever he’s going to say isn’t going to be good.

“My secretary overheard our conversation when you came into the office,” he tells me, and my stomach drops. “She told Billy about it, and today, he put two and two together.”

“Oh,” I whisper, feeling lightheaded.

“I don’t want you stressed about the situation, but I need to talk to you about it so you’re not blindsided by what’s about to happen.”

“What’s about to happen?” My brows draw together. “Is he going to go to my dad?” The idea is ridiculous. I’m not a teenager, and I don’t live at home. And my dad might be disappointed—maybe even a little angry—when he finds out I’m pregnant, but again I’m not a teenager, I’m a grown woman.

“No, it’s not that. Billy’s been having an affair with my assistant since before she started working for the DA’s office.”

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