Page 28 of Bound By Love

I couldn’t believe how in the heck this intelligent guy who’d lived in SoCal his whole life didn’t know about the secret menu. So just to have fun with him, I’d whispered, “William Howard St. Jamesthe thirdif I want Animal Style, they better damn well figure out how to give me what I want.” His wide eyes and the tinge of red in his cheeks was precious. We still giggle about our first date. Dang it, I meant, weusedto.

“I’ll definitely be trying the fry sauce. Sounds yummy. So, is Alastair Nina’s only child?” I already knew the answer, but I was tired of talking about fry sauce. What I really wanted to talk about was her interest in Alastair. Maybe then I could figure out why he didn’t appear into her.

“He’s an only child.” Brea sighed wistfully. “And adopted. Nina never married but wanted a child. So when she turned forty, she adopted him.”

“Wow, I had no idea. Is he around the store a lot?”

“He’s around enough.” Her eyes darted around like she knew I was fishing for information. I stunk at being secretive, just like being a horrible liar.

“You like him, don’t you?” Judging by the look on her face, she did. At the sound of the entrance bell, I glanced over as a young-looking guy strutted in with a black bandana wrapped around his forehead. He gave me biker vibes, which was strange. Since leaving Lily’s apartment, I’d noticed bikers a lot more than ever before.

“Is it that obvious?” Brea’s nervous voice stole my attention away from the man as he placed his order at the counter.

“Yeah. I think it’s sweet.”

“I’m invisible to him, have been since I started working at Radiance.” She frowned, nibbling on a fry.

“I noticed. So what gives? Why do you think he ignores you?” Usually, I wouldn’t ask a question like that because it’s rude, or at least among the kind of people I knew it might be uncouth. Here in the Pacific Northwest, people seemed different.

My gaze flitted back to the tall blond. Along with his bandana, he sported a black leather vest withProspectwritten in gothic font. What a weird word to have on his back.

“I’m not sure. I wish he didn’t ignore me.”

“Well, the fact it seems to bother you says a lot. You like him, I can see that, so don’t give up on him.” I reached across the table and patted her hand. Why I felt compelled to do so, I wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe my maternal instincts were kicking in, needing to nurture someone. I kind of liked the feeling. Not to mention I was thirsty for love, not just in receiving it but giving it. Like I used to withhim.

Admittedly, I wanted to drown myself in Brea’s possible love life. After she divulged her feelings about Alastair, it was enough of a green light for me. I’d give myself permission to help her figure out Alastair.

At this point, I’d try anything just to distract myself from my own pathetic life. If I couldn’t be happy in love, maybe Brea could.

I glanced up as the man in the leather vest cleared his throat, strutting out of the diner with his food. He made eye contact and nodded. What should have been a benign gesture sent a shiver rippling through my body.

12 Will

TUESDAY AFTERNOON, I found myself staring out my office window. On the twelfth floor, I had a spectacular view of the ocean, but that wasn’t what I was thinking of. No, my mind had gone to a dark place, and I considered how it would be less painful if I jumped off the rooftop and splattered on the black asphalt. I’d lay in a heap of flesh and broken bones, my blood coating Ocean Avenue. Quite possibly, it would be poetic justice.

And a welcome reprieve for my broken heart.

Of course, I would never do it. I wasn’t a total idiot. On the other hand, I was for losing the most amazing woman ever to walk the face of the earth.

Yeah, I was a fucking idiot, talking shit. I was exhausted after a week of little to no sleep. My misery still didn’t come close to all the pain I’d put Miranda through the last few months. Eight days had passed since I last saw her. Held her in my arms. Kissed her soft lips.

Since she moved in with me, we had never been apart from each other. We slept together every night. No. That wasn’t correct. The night she found the lipstick on the collar of my shirt, she’d gone to Lily’s. And then there was the night I didn’t come home because Axel told me to push her away, so I’d rented a room, and there was the night at Charlie’s Lounge when she caught me with Cori. All three times, I’d hardly slept.

I needed Miranda in my arms, in my bed, in my life. Everything was pointless without her.

A soft, three-tap knock on the door jolted me from my reverie. Feminine and classy, the way Miranda would do before entering my office. It commanded me to my feet, hope flooding every inch of me. My wide stride took me across the room swiftly.

The door opened, thwarting my wish. Not my beauty. A golf ball-sized lump formed in my throat.

Choking to death would be less painful.

“Will, how are you?” My mother entered, dressed to the nines and lovely as always. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

We kissed each other on both cheeks, how she preferred. It was a custom she’d adopted after living in France for a year before marrying my father. According to her, you can take the woman out of France, but you can’t take France out of her heart. Or something like that. I couldn’t recall her exact words. Nonetheless, there were some habits she’d acquired while living in France that remained strong during the last thirty-five years, likekiss-kiss.

“Mother, you look beautiful. Come in and sit down. Can I have Davina bring you an espresso or tonic water?”

“No, thank you.” She glided to the sofa, light and airy as if clouds carried her. Everything about my mother was majestic. Sophisticated and graceful. A bit of a snob if I were honest, but nevertheless cordial and respectful. From the back, she could have passed for my sister, tall and narrow through the hips. The two were nearly identical, except for the sleek, low bun my mother wore daily. Rare was the woman who pulled off the look. My mother’s long neck apparently made all the difference, according to Miranda. I would never disagree with Miranda; she knew about this sort of thing. I didn’t.

---