The Speed of Light: A Novel(40)

I fluff my hair, and my eyes float down to my body. None of my underwear is remotely sexy. My eyes focus on the baggy sweatshirt I’m wearing. His sweatshirt.

I cock my head to the side, raising my eyebrows at the woman in the mirror. You up for this?

The spark in her eye is the answer I need.

I strip down out of my pants, thanking the patron saint of shaved legs that I used my razor this morning. Then I tug the sweatshirt over my head, dropping it onto the floor so I can slip out of my pajama shirt before shrugging back into the bulky hoodie.

The chilled air as I step out of the bathroom sends goose bumps up my exposed legs. My hands brush my bare thighs—the sweatshirt covers the important parts but not much more, and I’m suddenly self-conscious.

But before me, Connor sits on the edge of my bed, facing the TV, and as I stare at his broad shoulders and back, his strong arms, my bravery returns. “Hey,” I say softly.

He’s turning toward me as he answers. “The movie’s all cued—” His voice cuts off, and now he’s the one staring.

I draw a shuddering breath, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Is this okay?”

His eyes float down my body, then back up, and they lock on to mine. “This is okay,” he says. “This is very, very okay.”

I smile as I walk toward him, climb onto the bed, and gently slide the remote out of his hand. “So, I sort of changed my mind about the movie.”

He leans toward me, his voice husky. “Oh really?”

We’re so close now that his breath warms my face. I close the distance, my lips lightly brushing his. “Will you stay tonight?” I whisper.

His strong hands cup my face, and he kisses me deeply, the answer I hoped for, and when he leans back, I’m breathless. I push myself up on my knees, all hesitation gone, replaced by the adoration in his eyes, and I pull the hoodie up over my head, drop it onto the floor behind me.

Connor rises up to his knees as well, eyes taking in my entire body. I reach for him, and it’s like our bodies are drawn together—we’re kissing without end, I’m pulling his shirt up over his head, running my hands down his warm chest and stomach. His hands find me, too, his lips trail down my neck, sending shivers of anticipation through me as we ease back onto the bed.

“Simone,” he whispers, lips brushing my ear, “you are the most beautiful person I have ever known.”

I exhale a soft puff of air as his lips find mine again, and I kiss him with all that is in me. My heart has melted away, exploded into a million particles of joy, nothing left but the blissful certainty that I have fallen completely in love with this man.



My eyes are closed but I’m smiling as I rest on Connor’s warm chest, rising and falling in rhythm. Goose bumps prickle my bare shoulder, but he anticipates them, satisfies yet another need as he pulls the blanket higher up onto my shoulder.

“You comfortable?” he murmurs.

“Mm-hmm.” I open my eyes. “Except . . .”

“Except?”

My stomach rumbles, the famished beast within weak now from hours of emptiness. “Except I’m starving.”

Connor chuckles. “I could cook you something. I happen to make the best frozen pizza in the world.”

I giggle, then gasp. “Oh, wait! My neighbor gave me a whole pan of chocolate cupcakes.” I have earned those. My eyes light up, and I twist toward him. “We could watch the movie now. With a midnight snack?” Sleep be damned—I’ll make my coffee extra strong tomorrow morning.

He kisses the tip of my nose. “Whatever you want.”

I smile slyly and move in, kissing him slowly, savoring his taste on my lips. When I pull back, I whisper seductively in his ear, “Cupcakes and Star Wars, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Connor plants a soft kiss on my forehead before slipping out to the kitchen to retrieve the cupcakes.

I watch him walk away, lying in the warmth of the bed, already counting the moments until his arms are around me again.





PART SIX

DENIAL





Monday, December 6, 10:03 a.m.

I stare in horror at Nikki—my best friend in the world—lying on the floor, motionless.

I fall to my knees.

I can’t do this.

All sounds stop. Time seems to stop. I shut my eyes, fade away, and suddenly it’s like I’m back in our college theater. The smell of backstage, all dampness and dust and nervous sweat. The muted clip of the floorboards beneath my feet. The thick dark curtain, a sliver of light peeking underneath. The panic bubbling up within me until I’m sure I’m about to explode.

The gentle hand on my shoulder, calming me as always, turning darkness into light.

You can do this.

Nikki’s whisper coats me with steel, thrusts me through that curtain and onto the stage.

I draw a shuddering breath, open my eyes. But it’s not the stage that awaits me. It’s something much more terrifying.

I force myself to crawl forward until I reach Nikki. Then I extend a trembling hand, trying desperately to hope, to pray, to believe that my best friend is still alive.





CHAPTER TWENTY

May 19, seven months before

No matter how desperately I hope and pray, jogging outside for the first time is so much harder than I imagined. We put it off as long as possible—a couple of late-season snowstorms helped—but now the snow is gone, and with it, any excuse to stay indoors. And yet no matter how brightly spring plays its melody on this crisp morning in Falls Park—the rush of the water, the laughter of children on end-of-the-school-year field trips—it’s impossible to focus on the loveliness when you’re drenched in sweat, panting out labored breaths with each step.