Page 84 of Lovetown, USA
That’s when I glance at Brian’s left hand. Married. Of course.
I’m still bewildered when the lesson starts, and I find myself elbow deep in cake flour, raspberry jam and other fillings, and enough fondant to cover the roof of this building.
Later, while cutting the petit fours into neat squares, Trey hums softly, some tune I don’t recognize. I can’t stop watching him. Ogling him. Wondering where his head is at. Wondering the same of my own.
After we box up all of the goodies, Trey puts half a dozen petit fours in a small white box and sets it next to my bag.
On the way back to the hotel, I gaze at him again. I know he has to see me in his peripheral, but I’m not ashamed that I’m staring. The man is doing something to me, something that terrifies me.
He’s making me believe there are good men again.
He parks in the garage. “I’m gonna walk you in, but I can’t stay. I have an early day tomorrow.”
“Same.” I stare down at the small white box in my lap. “So if you read all my work, you know my real name.”
“I knew before then,” he says. “It’s on your medical chart.”
I slap a hand against my forehead, making him laugh. “I don’t know why that never occurred to me.”
“It’s all good, Danielle.”
I roll my eyes. “I had to change it. For my career. Long story.”
He nods. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me. Or not.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “It’s just a label, anyway. It doesn’t have shit to do with who you are.”
When I smile, he smiles in return. “I really did miss you,” he says.
“I missed you, too.” I set the box on the dashboard and turn to look at him. “What were you doing in Houston?”
He exhales heavily. “Experiencing the consequences of my actions.”
I lift an eyebrow.
“I had to go to court. I’m being tried for assault on my ex-wife’s best friend slash affair partner.”
“Oh. Damn.”
“Yeah. The judge keeps asking me if I want me to plead out, but with that comes the possibility of losing my license, and I’ll bedamnedif I let that shit happen. So, I’m fighting.”
“Him pressing charges sounds lowkey bitchmade.”
“Nah, that’s highkey,” he says, his nostrils flaring. “Lane, when I caught that nigga in my house, I blacked. It is what it is. And I’d do that shit again. In every lifetime.”
“I see that,” I laugh. “But, it’s not funny. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs.
“Aren’t you taking a risk, though? What if they find you guilty?”
“Yeah. It’s a risk. My ex is willing to testify for me. So is my son, but I’m really hoping it doesn’t come to that. I don’t wanna put him through it.”
I nod. “So I’m not the only one with baggage.”
“About that.” He turns slightly to face me. “What’s the deal?”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Basically…I abused my position atThe Beacon,” I admit. “I wrote a very scathing article about my ex after he left me at the altar. I think the kids call it crashing out.”
He frowns. “How’d you get them to print it?”
