By “bag” he must mean the punching bag, she thought. Hitting that was safer than driving too fast, or getting drunk and then driving. Her gaze dropped to his bandaged hands. Not that it was an easy way to deal with emotion.
“I’m sorry to put you through this,” he told her.
“Why?” She stood and crossed to him. “You’re feeling what you feel. You had a wife and a child. You lost them both in a horrible way and every now and then you’re in a bad place.”
He looked into her eyes. “That’s it?”
“What else would there be?”
“You could tell me to get over it. That it’s time to move on.”
“Not my job or my style,” she said.
His love for his family had nothing to do with her, except maybe to point out that nearly everyone was capable of that kind of commitment except her. Love required trust, and there was no way she would go there. She’d made a choice a long time ago and saw no reason to change her mind.
He reached for her and pulled her close. His strong arms held her tight.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Anytime.”
He didn’t speak, which was okay with her. Because if he did, if he’d said he would take her up on that, it would send them to a place that neither of them wanted to go. Marie would be the love of his life for as long as he lived. Taryn knew she would never be able to trust anyone with her heart. It made them perfect for each other. Neither of them would allow things to get serious.
While the realization should have been comforting, instead she felt an odd sense of sadness. As if she’d lost something important. Something she’d almost been able to grasp, until it had somehow slipped away.
* * *
“IF YOU WORE FLATS, this wouldn’t be a problem,” Larissa said as Taryn parked in front of Jo’s Bar.
Taryn looked at her friend. “You’re wearing flats. You could have walked.”
Larissa grinned. “I was being supportive.”
“By driving with me and then complaining about my shoes. It’s an unusual way to show support.”
“I’m an unusual person.”
When Taryn had come in to work this morning and seen the lunch date on her calendar, she nearly canceled. Since picking up Angel the previous afternoon, she hadn’t been able to shake the sense of her world being out of whack. Then she’d reminded herself that life had to go on and hanging out with girlfriends was about the most affirming activity she knew.
Taryn collected her tote and got out of the car. The crocodile-and-glittered-python satchel bag had been delivered that morning. She’d seen it online the day after Angel’s snakebite and had bought it in a gesture of solidarity. So far Larissa hadn’t noticed, which was good. Larissa didn’t believe in using animals or reptiles for bags or shoes. Although, as Taryn liked to point out, Larissa did occasionally wear leather.
They walked into Jo’s Bar and saw that Isabel, Felicia and Dellina had already claimed a table. The three women waved them over. Taryn smiled as she approached, not wanting anyone to know she wasn’t feeling her perky best.
She couldn’t shake what had happened yesterday with Angel. After the incident with the punching bag, he’d stayed with her. They’d slept together and in the morning he’d made love to her—swollen hands and all. She could say that, yes, he was back to who he had been...but she wasn’t. She was still wrestling with all the emotion he’d been dealing with. The pain and suffering.
She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, so she didn’t know how to make it better—or make it go away. Either would be a help. But instead she was left wallowing in something she didn’t understand and the growing sense that she might well be in over her head.
She and Larissa had just taken their seats when Consuelo joined them. Jo walked over with menus and mentioned she had a new pulled pork nacho plate, if they wanted to try those.
Isabel groaned. “I’m trying to lose ten pounds.”
Dellina smiled at her. “Don’t take this wrong, but you’re always trying to lose ten pounds. The pulled pork nachos sound great.”
Consuelo studied Isabel. “I could work up an exercise program,” she offered. “Get you into fighting shape.”
Isabel shook her head. “I don’t want to fight anyone. To be honest, I think I’d rather complain about the extra pounds than do something about them. No offense.”
“None taken.” Consuelo turned to Taryn. “You should do less cardio and more weight training. You have good core strength, but another five pounds of muscle would make a big difference in your metabolism.”
Taryn thought about the weight room at Score and knew that any of the boys would be delighted to take her through a workout.
“I’d rather have a root canal,” she murmured. “And now I want the nachos, too.”
Larissa leaned toward Consuelo. “So you’re secretly working for Jo’s nacho vendor?”
“I guess,” Consuelo muttered. “Now I want a margarita.”
Dellina grinned. “That sounds great. But I feel compelled to point out it’s only lunch. Alcohol means a very slow afternoon.”