Page 86 of Spark
My gut reaction is to say yes, but instead I give it some thought, and I come up with the same answer. “Yes. I’d still want him. Yes.”
“Exactly. Because deep down, you’re as sure of him as he is of you.”
Henry’s words circle on a loop through my head for the rest of dinner, replaying over and over while I listen to the insane lengths the guys have gone to when it comes to the people sitting at this table. The Barnetts are clearly insane. Birth control tampering, kidnapping, stalking—there’s a laundry list of actual felonies, but ultimately, they did it all for love, and everyone seems blissfully happy.
I’ve never known anyone in a truly happy relationship before. My dad had girlfriends, but it always ended with me never seeing them again after they’d screamed at him and called him names. Some of the dancers at the club had boyfriends and husbands, but none of them seemed happy, judging by the moaning and complaining they did about them.
I don’t have anything to model a normal relationship on, and even though I’ve admitted that I love Warrick, I still barely know him.
The server brings the bill, but I never get a chance to see it. “It’s our treat, welcome to the family, Verity,” Cora says happily.
“They did the same for me the first time I went to dinner with them all,” Henry tells me quietly, and I’m grateful for the heads-up. I don’t want these lovely people to think I need them to pay for me. I’m already mooching off Warrick, I’m not going to do it to anyone else.
When we leave the restaurant, I spot Knight and one of the Barnetts leaning against Knight’s black SUV. The car is in the same place it was when he dropped us off. “Octy, did Knight not leave?”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “There is no way he’d leave me here alone. He’s been sitting out here watching me through the window.” She’s so nonchalant about it that instead of commenting, I nod, because given what I’ve learned about the men in this town tonight, Knight standing on the street for three hours while Octy had dinner with her girlfriends doesn’t seem that crazy.
Knight and the Barnett—who I’m assuming is Bonnie’s husband, judging by the way she makes a beeline for him—are chatting, but the moment he sees Octy, he pushes off the SUV and strides straight over to her, scooping her off the floor and into his arms like he hasn’t touched her in a month, not a few hours.
No one else seems particularly surprised to see him acting this way, so I’m guessing this is pretty normal for them. Sighing wistfully, I wish that Warrick was here waiting for me too. He only left this morning, but I miss him.
I’m used to being alone. Even when my dad lived with me, I was still alone. But I wouldn’t ever have described myself as lonely. Now as I watch Bonnie’s husband wrap her in his arms while Knight has Octy pinned to his chest, I wonder if maybe I’ve never felt the loss of others’ company because I’ve just been waiting for Warrick.
After everyone hugs me and makes me promise to actually respond to the messages they send me, they all filter off into cars and drive away. Climbing into the back of Knight’s SUV, I buckle my seat belt and watch the lights of Rockhead Peak slowly dwindle away until there’s nothing but the light of the moon to illuminate the road.
“Thanks for the ride…and for dinner,” I tell Octy as I slip from the car. Knight follows me to the front door, waiting like a guard as I pull my house key from my purse and unlock the door.
“Lock it behind you,” he orders, “and call if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” I say, waving to Octy before I step into the house and close and lock the door behind me.
This is the first time I’ve left the house and come back without Warrick. Flicking on the light, I scan the room to make sure I’m alone, but I can already feel the lack of his energy. Heading for the kitchen, I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, then contemplate if I should watch some TV or just go to bed.
Deciding on the latter, I turn the light off again, climb the stairs, and open the bedroom door. The bed is freshly made with the sheets I washed earlier, but as I sit down on the edge of the mattress, I wish I’d left the dirty ones on, because all I smell is detergent and not his comforting soapy, manly scent.
Stripping out of my clothes, I drop them into the hamper, then pad into the bathroom in just my underwear. Washing my face, I brush my teeth, then decide to take a shower instead. Once I’m clean, I find one of Warrick’s shirts from the closet and pull it on, twisting my wet hair into a braid before I pull back the sheets and climb into bed.
It’s eleven p.m., and I should be tired, but as I pull the comforter over me, all I can think about is Warrick. He’s at work; I shouldn’t disturb him, but the urge to talk to him drives me to grab my cell and type out a text.
Me: Are you awake?
His reply is instantaneous.
Warrick: How was dinner?
Me: It was good, everyone was lovely, and they insisted on treating me and paying for my meal and drinks. Henry said it’s a thing they do to welcome people to the group.
Warrick: I’m glad you had a good time. Knight texted me to let me know he’d dropped you off at home. What are you doing now?
Me: I’m in bed. I miss you.
The screen flashes with a video call a moment later.
“Hi,” I whisper, resting the cell against the pillow.
“I miss you too. Being in this tiny fucking bed on my own and knowing you’re in our bed is a test in patience. I wish I was there with you.”
“I didn’t realize it would be like this,” I admit.
