Disoriented by dawn’s first rays, Colby wished she’d remembered to close the blinds. She pressed her fingers to her slightly tender lips. Lips ravaged by hundreds of perfect kisses. Limbs heavy from hours of lovemaking.
Most guys had made short work of foreplay. Alec, however, had never been like most guys.
After a lifetime of watching him pay particular attention to every detail, be it a puzzle or a recipe or any project he’d ever attempted, it didn’t surprise her to discover he was also that kind of lover. The memory of his touch unleashed a rush of warmth that coiled in her tummy, making her smile. Words that rarely entered her vocabulary anymore—“sweet, emotional, moving”—came to mind.
She watched him sleeping on his stomach, arms and legs akimbo, and studied his graceful cheekbones, shiny hair, curve of his shoulders, outline of triceps. At once familiar and yet so fascinatingly new.
Only inches separated them in her bed. It had been nearly two years since she’d shared this space with anyone.
Mark had been a belly sleeper, too. When they’d first met and made love, he’d also enthralled Colby even as her instinct warned her to slow down. She should’ve listened to that instinct instead of being impulsive—of getting swept up in emotion and lust. But she’d been young and had rushed into marriage with all the assuredness and hopefulness of any inexperienced young woman. Now the ashes of that marriage still gathered in the alcoves of her mind, no matter how often she tried sweeping them away.
And yet, without much hesitation, she’d given in to impulse again last night. Alec’s perfect kisses had swept her away, just as he’d promised. Now what? Could she and Alec share something like Hunter and Sara had, or were the obstacles and history too overwhelming? Doubts began circling the bed, making her chest tight. The urge to push away—to run as far and fast as she could—gripped her with astonishing force.
She slid out of bed and, after quietly slipping on some clothes, went to the living room and paced. She’d forgotten how awkward “the morning after” could be with a man who wasn’t one’s husband, not to mention one who’d been a friend, an adversary, a pseudo brother . . .
Oh, good God. Alec Morgan was naked in her bed. How could that seem right and wrong at the same time?
Sun rays streamed through the plate glass, glinting off her wedding band and stopping her heart. She lifted the ring, now warm and familiar in her palm. It didn’t belong on her ring finger after last night.
She tested the band on her right hand, which felt odd. Odd but necessary. Unwelcome, irrational feelings of betrayal of both Mark and Alec tangled her thoughts and emotions into a thick knot. Food might help. She grabbed her keys and headed for a convenience store to buy eggs and milk. At the very least, cooking would give her something to do until Alec woke up.
Along the three-block walk, she passed by a homeless man sleeping in a corner near a garage. Many of the homeless clustered closer to the highways, where the mayor allowed them to pitch tents at night. The population seemed to be expanding lately, with more scattered throughout the city, especially near the parks.
That man’s fate—alone, penniless, and covered by a thin, dingy blanket—could’ve easily been Mark’s, too. He’d burned through his accounts during manic phases, spending ungodly sums on crazy things like plane tickets for a spiritual trip to Tibet and cases of sixty-dollar bottles of organic elderflower lemonade from Europe. Once he gambled away nearly his entire savings in Vegas. Had it not been for her job and her CTC stock, he could’ve easily ended up huddled in some corner of the city.
Mark’s family lived in New Hampshire and had kept in touch sporadically at best. Without her, Mark would’ve been lost long before they’d learned he went missing.
Not that she’d ultimately been able to save him. That thought always twisted her stomach. She knew, deep down, she’d never fully shirk the weight of her share of responsibility for what happened to her marriage and to her husband. To her. Did other people walk around hiding that level of guilt and pain?
She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if the stranger had any family. If he, too, was mentally ill.
On her way home from the convenience store, she set a small bag with bread, peanut butter, and apple juice near the still-slumbering homeless man. He stirred but didn’t waken. Slightly afraid, she scooted away, wishing she were braver. Wishing she could do more. Then she remembered Alec’s wonderful idea. A smile formed, not only because she knew just what she wanted to do, but also because it reminded her of Alec’s best trait: his kind heart.
When she returned, Alec was already dressed and ready to go. His gaze landed on the bag in her right hand and then homed in on the ring. “I didn’t know where you went. I thought . . . Are you upset?”
She recognized that “bracing for pain” expression he’d always donned whenever his father entered the room. He must’ve thought she’d run away this morning, which she sort of had. Now he expected to be hurt.
The thought of adding to the vein of rejection that ran through Alec like a wormhole wrung her heart.
“You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.” She gave him a quick kiss, willing her lingering doubts into submission as she raised the bag up. “Not even you could whip up breakfast without a quick restocking. This time, I’ll cook.”
He stared at her an extra second, assessing and hopeful. She pushed down the knowledge that she’d already started repeating the bad patterns from her marriage of hiding her doubts to spare his feelings.
“Trying to prove that you actually did learn to cook from watching me in high school?” His grin lit a match in her chest, loosening the tightness.
“Something like that.” Although she felt as vulnerable as he looked, she could do this, dammit. She wanted to do this with Alec. “Tea or coffee?”
“Neither, thanks.” He sank onto a kitchen stool. “What do you have planned today?”
“During my walk, I got an idea. What if we use the fund we discussed to help the homeless?”
“I’d assumed we’d support an environmental cause, given Mark’s and Joe’s passion for the wilderness.” Alec rubbed his chin. “Why the homeless?”
“It’s a real problem in the city. I also think many suffer from mental illness. Without the support they need, they end up alone and lost. I think Mark—” She shook her head and prayed Alec didn’t catch her slip of tongue. “I think Mark and Joe would support that. The environment is important, but people matter more.”
“Okay, then.” Alec’s warm smile wrapped around her heart. “The homeless.”
“Thank you.” She cracked eggs into a bowl. “We could visit the Burnside Shelter this morning and find out what they need—food, beds, clothing.”
“I can’t today. I skipped my morning cycling with Hunter, but I can’t blow off my mom, too. I promised I’d drive to the coast with her to visit my gram.”
She whisked the eggs, wondering if Alec was keeping Hunter’s reaction from her. “Hunter must be pissed about being blown off.”