A lunch date sounded like a good idea, and her sisters-in-law had both been friendly and welcoming. “Did she say when?”
“No. She said she would give you a call.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t I tell you already that I’m fine?”
“I’m only asking because you look like death,” Eva snapped. “Forgive me for showing some concern.”
She swung on her heel and marched over to the counter where the rest of the cake sat on the cake stand. If he weren’t in the room, she might have grabbed a handful and shoved it in her mouth. Of course, if he weren’t here, she wouldn’t be so upset that she felt the need to eat the cake in that manner.
“I have a headache,” he mumbled, almost grudgingly. “If it doesn’t go away in a little bit, I’ll take something for it.”
She glanced at him sideways. “Maybe you’re working too hard. You’re never here.”
She yanked open the cutlery drawer.
“Don’t tell me you miss me?” Derrick asked.
Focused on searching for a knife, Eva ignored the question. Behind her, the soles of his expensive leather shoes moved softly across the tile.
“Do you, Eva? Do you miss me?”
The outright question stilled her hands in the drawer. From his tone, she knew he stood right behind her. Closing her eyes, she bit back the words that would leave her vulnerable to him.
Yes, I miss you.
She missed him with a level of intensity she hadn’t felt before moving into this house. On St. Simons Island, she could slowly recover from the breakup and had friends there to occupy her time so she didn’t have to spend almost every waking minute thinking about him.
But here . . . here there was no escape from the thoughts. She tried to stay busy, but there was no way to dull the ache in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t even lie to herself any longer and pretend she felt nothing for him.
Not when she listened for him every night, longed for him to join her for dinner, and wished he would seek out her company just once.
Her fingers tightened around the knife. “You’re fishing for compliments.”
The biting sarcasm she hoped would fill her voice fell flat, but she still got her message across. It was one of the few defenses she had left, because her plan to shield her heart during the period he gave her to get used to married life had failed miserably.
She cared about him, no matter how much she didn’t want to.
“Yeah,” he said. “And I’m fishing for them in the wrong place.”
A tight pain pulled at her stomach, and she turned around. “What do you mean by that? Are you going to cast your net somewhere else?”
He stopped midstride on the way out the door and turned to face her. “Why would I need to seek out other women when I have a beautiful wife at home?” he asked, his voice rife with sarcasm. With slow steps, he approached her, and her heart tripped with trepidation. “Which reminds me—I need to inform you that your time is almost up. And a word of advice . . .” His gaze swept the length of the robe, and she shivered at the hotness of his gaze.
The clothing seemed inadequate when before it had sufficed. She almost felt as if he could see right through the silk and the nightgown under it.
“Consider yourself lucky that I’m tired right now. In the future, I suggest you wear a potato sack or garbage bag when you walk around the house at night, because if I ever catch you in anything remotely close to what you’re wearing again, your time to get used to the marriage will come to an end.”
With those words hanging in the air, he left.
Chapter Eight
Bright and early Friday morning, both Cassidy and Celeste pulled up to the house at the same time in separate cars. Rather than a simple lunch, the three had decided to go shopping together. When Eva met them downstairs in the foyer, Cassidy—petite in contrast to her tall brothers—greeted her with a big smile and hug.