Page 36 of Reckless Love

I lean back in my chair, and I cross my arms. Sometimes, the changes in her surprise me. How good she is at being a mother, and now this—how much she cares about the people in her employ. Ava of six years ago cared mostly about Ava. Or she seemed to.

“You’re surprised.” She says it like a statement.

“Impressed,” I admit, trying to smother the warm glow in my chest.

“You’re impressed by me?” She sits straighter in her chair, almost preening.

“I’m impressed by who you’ve become, yeah.”

“I don’t usually impress people.”

“I think it’s more likely that most people just don’t say it out loud. They forget, or maybe don’t know, how nice it is to hear it.”

“I used to say whatever I thought. No filter.”

“I’m aware,” I say. “You don’t think you do that anymore?”

“Do you think I do?”

I lean forward and slide my own queen into a vulnerable position while I consider what I’ve observed. “For the most part, no, I don’t think you’re like that anymore. What do you think changed?”

“Are you letting me win?” she asks as she takes my queen.

“I’m too competitive for that.”

“Maybe with other people,” she murmurs, “but never with me.”

The reminder to go check all doors and entrances pops up on the security unit, and I realize it’s the middle of the night. “You’re going to be tired again.”

“But now I know how to play chess,” she says, and she flips her watch around on her wrist to check it. “It is late.”

“I’ll walk you to the stairs,” I say, grabbing my suit jacket off the back of the chair, where I left it during dinner.

We amble to the front foyer where the stairs are, and there’s a comfortable silence that settles between us. She rises onto the bottom stair and turns to look at me.

“Oh,” she says, “come here. You’ve got some fluff in your hair.”

With her up a little higher, there’s only a slight height different between us, and she rises on her toes to pluck something from my hair. I don’t see what it is. I’m not even convinced there’s anything, but the close proximity heats the air around us as though we’re in an oven turned to broil. Cool comradery to white-hot passion with the graze of her fingertips.

She releases whatever she’s captured, and then her soft hands cup my cheeks, and her gaze travels from my eyes to my lips. The scent of vanilla and lilies floats around us.

I should step back, but I just want to live in this moment for one more beat, let myself remember what it was like when I could be with her for one more second. My forehead comes to rest against hers, and my hands span her waist. And it’s so good to touch her, to be near her, that my blood is singing in my ears. She’s my passion and my comfort, and I’ve never been able to get enough.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Her declaration draws me back into myself, reminds me why this shouldn’t happen, can’t happen, and I force myself to take a step back. Her hands fall to her sides, and when I open my eyes, she looks so sad that all I want to do is step closer again.

“You’re married, Mrs. Santos,” I say, my voice firm. “You made a lifelong promise to someone else, and I’m not the man to help you break it.”

A spark of anger lights her eyes, and her old, defiant attitude threatens to surface. “I never asked you to, did I?”

“Not with your words, no.”

She lets out a huff and practically stomps up the stairs.

Once Datu arrives to take over watch, I climb the stairs to the second story. To get to the wing I’ve been sleeping in, I have to walk past Ava’s bedroom. Ava and Raul’s bedroom.

Every night that I’ve gone past, I’ve tried not to think about her in there, about how Raul gets to be the one who sleeps next to her.