Page 55 of Every Silent Lie
“Hey, Debbie.” She stops at the door and looks back. “Your husband.”
“What about him?”
“Did he . . . you know . . . after what you said yesterday. About the accident on the M25.”
“Did he save her? No, he didn’t. Two weeks before Christmas.” Her gaze drops to the floor, but I still see her frown as well as I feel the ache in my stomach. “Life’s cruel, huh?”
I swallow around my nod as Debbie leaves and proceed to stare at the flowers, considering her words. Life can be exceedingly cruel.
For many, Camryn, not just you.
The moment I open my office door, I feel all eyes on me, and they follow me all the way to the elevator. Once I push the button, I look back. “What?” I ask no one in particular but everyone at the same time.
“Nothing,” they sing.
“Sure.” I roll my eyes and step into the cart, hoping no one joins me on the way down because there isn’t a square inch of spare space, the flowers touching each side of the cart. And now my face is so close, I can appreciate the scent. I inhale and close my eyes, letting it sink into me, which only makes me crave Dec more than usual. His warmth.
Halfway across the lobby, I juggle the bouquet into one arm and pull my scarf up to my chin, bracing for the shock of cold. “Good Lord,” I breathe when it hits me, speeding up, hoping my faster pace will warm me up a bit. It doesn’t.
I’m a fucking icicle by the time I make it to where I want to be, and as I stare up at the impressive building, I wonder . . . what now? Do I go in? Wait outside?
I decide to wait. I don’t want people to ask questions he might not be comfortable with. No, that’s just how you’d feel if he showed up at your office. I’m rolling my eyes again, exasperated by myself, as I scan the vicinity, finding a post to perch on.
And I wait.
And wait.
And with each minute that passes, I lose feeling in one more finger until my hands are like blocks of ice. I must get some gloves. Surely I can find a store where I won’t bump into my devastating past so I can get myself a pair of gloves. My eyes narrow as the unstoppable force of her smiling face infiltrates my mind. How blissfully happy she’d sounded talking on the phone. How at peace she looked in her life.
How just seeing her sent me down a rabbit hole of agony and desolation.
Mildly shaking my head, I close my eyes and hear her apologies. I see the sheen of tears in her eyes when she had the nerve to come to our home and say sorry. My husband’s anger when I slapped her face.
No.
I jerk, my eyes snapping open, and find my flowers.
Colour.
Focus on the colour.
The door to the building opens endless times, various people coming and going, but none of them are Dec. I’m about all out of hope, sure he’s left early, or maybe not come to his office at all today, when a grey Defender pulls up at the curb, the hazards flashing. My deep inhale lifts me to my feet as I watch a man hop out. Not Dec. He’s short and stocky in build, with a mop of dark curly hair. Jogging across the pavement to the gold doors of the building, he disappears through them, appearing moments later with a few boxes stacked in his arms.
Dec’s following him, fastening the buttons of his coat.
My heart stops at the mere sight of him. How his tall body moves so sinuously, how his silver gaze seems infinitely lazy, how his lips maintain that constant slight parting. He adjusts the scarf around his neck with leather-gloved hands, getting the collar of his coat flat under the wool wrapped around his neck. I can’t convince my legs to walk me over to him. I can’t convince my mouth to call his name.
But I don’t need to, because he looks up and sees me. Whether because he’s sensed me nearby or by chance, I don’t know. He freezes for a moment, taking me in, while I continue refreshing my mind of every magnificent bit of him. I’m so nervous. Ready to expose myself but not.
Somehow, I finally convince by legs to move and walk over to him, setting the flowers on the ground by my feet.
The man from the Defender appears next to us. “Dec?”
“Just give me a moment,” Dec says quietly, his gaze remaining on me.
“Of course.”
My mind’s empty.
