Page 13 of Queen of Diamonds
Fighting a laugh, she said, “Since you brought pizza and a bottle of amazing wine, I might make an exception for you.”
His sad smile morphed into a grin. “I can manage to have an endless supply of pizzas and amazing wine if that would entice you to removemightfrom what you just said.”
“No way. If I make you work for my friendship, you’ll appreciate it more.”
They chatted for a few minutes until the pizza was hot, then took seats across from each other at her tiny pub table. As they talked, he seemed to come out of his funk, if that was what it was.
She picked up a slice, taking a bite off the end, and as she’d done with her first sip of the wine, she closed her eyes, savoring the taste. “My God, this is the best pizza I’ve ever had.”
“Did I mention an endless supply?”
“All I’ll admit to is that you’re making it easy to forget you’re an olive man.” He was smiling, but he still had sad eyes. Did he miss his wife, maybe? “How long have you been divorced?”
“A little over a year.”
“You must have taken your divorce hard if it caused you to drink too much.”
He set down his slice of pizza, stared at his plate for a moment, then lifted his gaze to hers. “No, that wasn’t the reason. Our daughter died.” His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat. “We didn’t handle it well.”
“God, Rand, who would handle losing a child well?” She’d known he carried some kind of pain in his heart, but she’d never thought of it being something so tragic. She reached over and put her hand over his. “I’m so sorry.” There were no words adequate to comfort anyone who’d lost someone they loved. She knew that for a fact. And a child? That had to be the hardest loss.
“Her name was Zoe. She died a month before her fourth birthday.” He stood, picked up his plate and took it to the sink, then turned, leaned against the counter, and shoved his fingers into the pockets of his pants. “Olivia, my wife, couldn’t deal with my grief. I wanted to talk about Zoe. She didn’t. She said living with me was too depressing, so she found a man who’d never known Zoe, one who had no upsetting memories of her daughter.”
“I hope this doesn’t offend you, but your ex-wife was a cold bitch.”
He dipped his chin as a brief smile curved his lips. “I know it sounds like it, but not really. Her way of dealing with the pain was to lock it away, pretend Zoe had never existed. I think she was afraid if she didn’t that she’d fall in a black hole and never be able to climb out.”
“Okay, I get that. Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief.” She thought he was being generous toward his ex-wife, though. “But Rand”—she stood and went to him—“anytime you want to talk about Zoe, I’d love to listen to your memories of her.”
His eyes held hers for a beat, and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. She took it from his hand. It was delicate, a small silver heart with a sapphire stone on a thin silver chain.
“Hers?” she asked.
“I bought it to give to her on her birthday.” He shrugged. “Never had a chance.”
And now he carried it with him, a link to his daughter. Tears burned her eyes. She handed the necklace back to him and then pressed her face against his chest. “I hurt for you,” she whispered.
His arms came around her, pulling her close. He kissed the top of her head. “I don’t want you to hurt for me, Kinsey.”
“Someone needs to.” She pulled away, took his hand, and tugged. “Come with me.” She’d already decided she wanted to play, but her feelings for him had turned into something else, something deeper. He followed without a word as she led him to her bedroom.
