Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
She’s made an effort today, I see. I wonder why.
Even if we didn’t have a history between us that’s pure dry rot, after Winnie’s curves, I could never go back to anything else. Rina’s slim frame always verged on bony.
Modelesque, I used to think, back when I was younger—until she had Colt and blamed him for destroying her figure with ten or fifteen pounds of baby fat she could never lose.
She wouldn’t accept the changes to her body gracefully.
She wouldn’t accept a lot of things.
At the time, that wasn’t something I gave much thought. It wasn’t like we were having sex by then anyway.
Dead bedrooms crop up like weeds when no one’s looking. You grow apart with petty arguments and work and bigger fights you should have.
Then one day you wake up and find a roommate wearing your ring, barely putting in the effort to play house and wife.
You know she’s pretending just as hard as you.
You know you’d both rather eat a bowl of live fire ants than make love.
Today, she seems to carry herself different. I can’t quite pin it down.
Either she’s gotten back to where she wanted by dropping a few pounds or she’s finally stopped giving a damn. Because with her soft earthy colors and only a splash of her usual sea-green turquoise, she looks fine. Bird skinny doesn’t turn my crank anymore, but plenty of guys will eat it up.
Her figure aside, I think she’s been taking care of herself.
The dark hollows and puffiness I usually find under her eyes aren’t there.
She hasn’t gone for much makeup, but what little there is smooths her skin and makes her amber eyes pop in the light.
She always did have big eyes.
Once, I loved them.
Now, I watch her disinterestedly as I slide her sugary coffee across the table with the ice cubes clinking softly.
Too much has happened for me to find Rina Desmona pretty the way I used to.
That’s not why we’re here.
“Here you are,” I say. “Dripping with enough vanilla to choke a buffalo.”
“Thanks!” she says, taking a long sip as she looks around. “Gotta say, I can see why you like this place.”
I don’t really, but that’s not the point.
“I think it’s only my second time here. I’ve been expanding my horizons a little, changing it up with the local coffee scene.”
“Since your brother married that baker, you mean?”
“Yeah, Junie ruined pastries for good. It’s all about the coffee quality now.”
“God, Dexter married! I can’t even imagine.” She nods and sips her coffee. Her eyes close, then open and fix on me. “So, let’s get to it. Why are we here, Archer? Why this place?”
“It’s neutral territory. Not my place or yours.”
“But why? Why are we meeting?”
“I wanted to talk. We haven’t done much of that since you came back to Kansas City.” I lean my elbows on the table.
“Okay. So talk.” She watches me again with those big eyes in that birdlike face, but where they were swarming with secrets before, now they’re all caution.
She shrugs.
Easy for her to say. I take a swig of my coffee, searching for the right words, the script I’ve tried like hell to rehearse in my head.
“You know, when you first showed up again, I didn’t trust you one bit.”
Fuck. Not exactly the right words, but they’re true.
I know I’m doing this wrong, but there’s so much in the air.
Too much baggage.
Too much history.
Too much Colt.
“Uh, yeah. I figured,” she says evenly. “You made that clear. I get it, Arch. I do.”
“The thing is, that attitude isn’t helpful. Not for Colton and not for us.” I sweep a hand through my hair. “The mistrust—that’s what I’m talking about. The way it feels like we’re trying to make him choose.”
Rina looks at me, her thin lips pursed like she’s trying to read me.
Once upon a time, I guess she could—when we were together, she knew me better than anyone. At least, the version of me before I spent a decade hunkered down, raising a son and building a company instead of chasing wild dreams like she did.
“I was thinking that, too,” she says quietly. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m so over that. And you’re right, I don’t want to make him choose.”
“We can be better, Ri.”
Her brows crease as she frowns at the old nickname. “Do you know why I came back?”
I guess I’m about to learn.
I sit back, letting her talk.
“When I left Washington and went off to California and Arizona, I did a lot of reflecting. What I wanted. Who I’d become.”
I nod, taking another sip.
I think we’ve both done plenty of reflecting over the years—and if hers was anything like mine, it couldn’t have all been positive.
“I worked in Sedona the last few years,” she continues, “and the energy in the earth, the way people would come there to heal, it really made me think about my choices, my priorities. I had a son, but I hadn’t even seen him in a year.” Her eyes fill with tears. “My son, Archer. It’s like I woke up.”