Page 169 of Morally Black Betrothal
“Would you come back now?” I found myself asking. “If your dad got the help he needs. If you could make the house your own?”
She smiled again. “Oh, without a doubt.”
I didn’t know why I was asking. Not when I knew there was no way it would ever happen.
Even so, I could picture it so vividly. Simone in this space, her hands covered in flour, pulling golden loaves from the ovens as a pair of small children darted around her legs. Smiling with the joy I’d only seen glimpses of when she baked for the cafe and others she loved.
She belonged here in a way that was so fundamental it hurt. This was her element, her future.
The future I’d been forced to steal. Then sell.
Once again, I found it hard to breathe. Guilt clawed at my ribs, yowling to be let out. How could I tell her? How could I look at this woman and admit that just over twenty-four hours ago, I’d destroyed everything she loved with a signature?
“Brendan?” Simone’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “Everything all right?”
I was about to respond when movement outside the window over the sink caught my eye. A flash of color through the dirty glass.
“Holy shit.” Quickly, but quietly, I leaned toward it, trying not to disturb our visitor.
“What is it?”
“Right there.” I pointed to where the bird was perched on the windowsill, its rainbow plumes catching the light. “That’s a painted bunting.”
Simone peered closer, her cheek next to mine, her scent of flour and lilac blanketing my senses. “It looks like a rainbow. Is it rare?”
“Extremely. I’ve never seen one north of the Carolinas.” I watched the bird flit from the feeder to a nearby branch while cataloging its field marks. Damn, I wished I had a better camera than my phone. “It’s probably looking for a place to live. The U.S. has lost about a third of its bird population since 1970. Did you know that? Mostly due to habitat loss.”
God, I was really laying the guilt on for myself, wasn’t I? Who was I to pretend the very habitat this bird was seeking here wasn’t about to be destroyed to build a fucking airport for the rich?
“They’re monogamous, you know,” I told her. “Well, most of the time.”
“For life?”
I shook my head. “No, just during the breeding season. Most birds don’t. Swans do. A few raptors and species of geese. Emperor penguins.”
I glanced at her, and I could see the question in her eyes that had to be brewing on my face too: if given the chance, would we mate for life or last just a season?
The bunting stayed for another minute before disappearing into the canopy of an old maple tree.
“I should make some lunch for my dad, and then I want to check on some of his chores before we leave.” Simone squeezed my hand, breaking the spell. “Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”
When I turned from the window, the afternoon light was behind her, making the halo effect of her blond hair that much more ethereal. She was all but drenched in gold.
“You, baby.” My voice was suddenly choked with all the emotions I didn’t know how to handle. “I need you.”
39
A BETTER MAN
Simone
Ineed you.
The words hung between us like the dust motes glowing through rays of sunshine.
Brendan stood silhouetted against the bakery window, the afternoon light casting shadows across his face that made his expression impossible to read.
He looked good on my farm. Maybe too good, which was why I’d been trying not to observe the way his long legs looked better wrapped in denim and flannel than his typical suits. Why I’d paid more attention to a broken door hinge than to my boyfriend.
