Page 67 of His Surrender

I’ll apologize if I’ve made things awkward and just be myself again. The man Aubrey has spent the last month getting to know.

The one who asked about her day or lingered over coffee. Someone who actually smiled once in a while.

I pull open the glass door and step into the marble lobby.

The first thing I hear is her laugh. It stops me mid-step.

It’s light, unrestrained. The kind of laugh that bubbles out of her before she has a chance to stop it. A laugh I haven’t heard in a week.

My eyes instinctively search for her.

She’s standing near the seating area beside the concierge desk, one hand resting on Liana’s stroller while absent-mindedly rocking it back and forth. Liana is awake, happily chewing on her toy, completely captivated by whatever conversation is happening above her.

Aubrey’s face is bright. She’s wearing jeans and a cream-colored sweater, and her hair is pulled into a loose ponytail that hangs over one shoulder.

God … when did I stop really looking at her?

Then I see him.

He’s standing comfortably beside the stroller with a coffee cup in one hand, talking as though they’ve done this a dozen times before.

He’s close enough that if Aubrey leaned forward, their shoulders would touch.

She laughs again, and he grins. My chest tightens deep inside.

It’s ridiculous.

They’re just talking. People talk all the time. I tell myself to keep walking … to let them finish.

Instead, my feet slow.

He says something, and Aubrey shakes her head with a smile.

“No, I don’t think so.”

He laughs. “I don’t believe you.”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “I promise.”

There it is again. That easy smile. The one I spent the last week pretending I didn’t miss.

Except it isn’t meant for me anymore.

An uncomfortable pressure settles beneath my ribs. It’s not pain, but something hotter, something heavier. It spreads through my chest with alarming speed, climbing into my throat until breathing suddenly feels … different.

My jaw tightens. I don’t even realize I’m clenching it until my molars begin to ache.

Why is he smiling at her like that? How long have they been standing here?

Have they been talking every afternoon this week? Did they meet while taking Liana for walks?

Questions begin firing through my head so quickly that I can’t catch them. Each one somehow worse than the last.

He shifts his weight while he rubs the back of his neck. It’s a nervous gesture. One I recognize immediately because I’ve done it myself.

He’s about to ask her something. Every instinct inside me sharpens.

“No pressure,” he says with an easy smile. “But I was wondering”—he hesitates just long enough to gather his courage— “if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight.”