Beauty from Pain(108)

“I promise.”


My guts tells me she was about to run, so it doesn’t matter if she promises me or not. She will run if the notion strikes her, so being away from her today won’t be easy for me. I won’t rest until I get home and find her still here.


I send my fifteenth text to Laurelyn today and await her response. I’m probably annoying her, but she needs to understand how much I want her to stay with me until she goes home next week. I’m not ready to say goodbye. At least not today.


My phone beeps with a response.


*Here waiting 4U*


I’m able to relax because that doesn’t sound like a response from a woman who has run away.


When I get back to the house, I almost race through the door to get to her. I’m eager to see proof she isn’t gone. “Laurelyn, where are you?”


“In the kitchen.” Relief. That’s the only word to describe how I feel at the moment. I can breathe again.


I go into the kitchen and find her standing in front of the stove. “I let Mrs. Porcelli go early because I wanted to cook for you. I hope you don’t mind.”


I come up behind her and put my arms around her waist. I kiss her neck and peer over her shoulder to see what she’s cooked. Hmm. Lasagna? My favorite. I wonder if she knows that. I’m reminded of the night we ate at the Italian restaurant in Auckland for her birthday. “Smells delicious.”


“My lasagna has been known to bring men to their knees.”


“Baby, it doesn’t take food for you to bring me to my knees.”


She faces me and puts her arms around my shoulders. “Is that so?”


“True story.”


“Good. I like you on your knees.”


The second the words leave her mouth, I see her remembering our morning. After the touchy incident following the Blake Phillips conversation, I decide it’s best to change the subject. “Can I help you with anything?”


We both know what I’m doing, but she rolls with it. “As if you’d know what to do.”


“I’m not totally helpless in the kitchen. I think I recall cooking brekkie for you one morning.”


“I’m not sure a bagel with cream cheese counts as cooking breakfast, but regardless—I’m good. Why don’t you go choose a wine for us?”


I kiss the side of her face. “That I can definitely do.”


I go into the cellar and choose a merlot. As I walk back to the house, I hear myself whistling “Private Dancer” without thinking about. Damn, she’s always on my mind, even if it’s my subconscious.


I hear Laurelyn talking to someone when I return from the wine cellar. I walk into the kitchen and she turns to see me standing behind her. She’s upset and that’s when I know it’s him. He’s called again.


I take the phone from her hand and hit the end button. “Don’t take his calls again. He upsets you and I don’t want to spend what little time we have left with him on your mind. I want to be the only one you think about. Agreed?”


“Agreed.”


I want her to forget his call, his face, his name, so I pull her close for a kiss. “Now, do you think you can make it through dinner without him in your head, or do I need to take you to bed and give you a reason to forget all about him?”


“Although I love the idea of you taking me to bed, he’s already out of my head. He was the second you kissed me.”


“Good.”


While we’re eating, I can’t stop myself from watching the way the candlelight dances on Laurelyn’s face. God, I’m going to miss her when she’s gone.


She notices me watching her and a smile spreads across her face. “A penny for thoughts?”


I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “I was just thinking about what I’m going to do after you go home. Damn, I’m going to miss you.”


She pulls her hand from mine and begins to clear the table. Her eyes are dodging mine. “You’ll do exactly as you’ve done all the other times. You’ll move on to the next town and find number fourteen.”


I can’t imagine there being anyone beyond number thirteen.


45


Laurelyn Prescott