Hidden (Nicole Jones #1)(17)

He excuses himself and goes into the bedroom, where I wish he’d gone in the first place. Steve comes and stands next to me as I pour the boiling water into the press.

‘I guess persistence paid off for him,’ he says softly.

I don’t look at him. ‘He’s not as bad as we thought,’ I say.

‘I hope not.’ His voice is laced with his concern.

‘I’m just taking your advice,’ I say.

‘What advice?’

‘It’s just a fling, I guess,’ I say. ‘Long overdue. He’s going to be gone soon.’

‘I guess I never realized,’ Steve says, and I look at him then. He is scratching his beard as he does when he’s thinking.

‘Realized what?’

‘You never seemed to be lonely before,’ Steve says. ‘You always seemed to like being alone.’

He is right. This is out of character for me, and he is justifiably confused.

‘Jeanine talked me into it,’ I say, wanting to blame someone else for what I’ve done. ‘She said it might be good for me.’

‘Jeanine’s a nut,’ Steve says. ‘All her talk of the spirit and chi and all that crap. You never took her that seriously.’

‘But I let her rearrange my furniture according to feng shui,’ I remind him. It was an odd experience, Jeanine fluttering around my house in her long flowing skirt, pushing furniture around so I’d have more ‘balance’ in my life.

‘You only did that because you’re a nice person,’ Steve said, and tears unexpectedly well up in my eyes. Steve puts his arm around me and squeezes as I press the coffee.

I am pouring Steve a cup when I hear his footsteps behind us.

‘Hey, Tina, got any razors?’

‘Under the sink in a basket,’ I say automatically, not even looking up. His footsteps disappear back where they came from.

I hand Steve the cup, the steam wafts up toward his face. He wears an expression of sheer confusion.

‘What did he call you?’

I manage to convince Steve that he has made a mistake; I didn’t hear him call me Tina so it didn’t register with me. I feign surprise, then dismay that the man I’ve obviously slept with doesn’t even know my name. Steve pats my hand and drinks his coffee, obviously seeing me as pathetic. I feel pathetic, lying to him about everything. But I’ve gone too far now, there’s no turning back, and I have to keep up the charade.

He comes out of the bathroom showered and shaved. He looks as though his clothes have been pressed, too, but I had smoothed them out when I couldn’t sleep and folded them over a chair after finding them in a heap on the floor.

He leans over and pecks me on the cheek. ‘Later, right?’

I nod, and we watch him disappear out the back door.

Steve frowns. ‘You’re going to see him again?’

I shrug. ‘He’s not that bad,’ I say again.

‘There are a hundred other guys who would be better for you.’

‘Name one,’ I challenge him.

‘Chip Parsons.’

I laugh. ‘Chip? The guy who hangs out at the Yellow Kittens? You’re kidding me, right?’

‘He’s a well-respected fisherman. Makes a good living. I also know for a fact that he’s always been sweet on you.’

‘Sweet on me? Oh, Steve, you’re so old fashioned.’ As soon as I say it, I’m sorry, because his face clouds over. I smile and sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re just looking out for me.’

‘You could marry me, and we could live happily ever after,’ he says.

‘How about next Thursday?’ I say, continuing our long-standing joke, but something about his expression makes me stop smiling. ‘My God, Steve, you’re not joking, are you?’

He starts pacing. ‘Maybe I’m not,’ he says. ‘Maybe we should just do it.’

‘But you’re—’ I don’t want to say it.

‘I’m not too old for you.’ He anticipates my argument. ‘There are plenty of women who marry men twenty years older or more.’

I put out my hand and touch his arm, which stops his pacing. He looks at me so sincerely that I want to cry again. I shake my head. ‘I love you, Steve, you know I do, but not that way.’

It should not be a surprise. We have never ventured here before, and it’s not as if we’d never had the opportunity if we both felt that way. I know he is just reacting to finding me here with another man. Somehow he is threatened.

‘He’s just a fling,’ I say lightly, although something heavy is weighting down my chest. ‘He’ll be gone soon.’

‘By Friday?’

He wants reassurance that our Friday night date is still on. That I won’t abandon him like Dotty did by dying. I think about what I’m about to do and suddenly regret it. Things might not be the same afterward. They have already begun to change. ‘By Friday,’ I promise, glancing toward the laptop. I have no choice. If I want to reclaim my life, I have to learn how to use it quickly, get the job done and him off the island.





TEN


Steve didn’t want to leave me, but business was starting to pick up, and he had to get down to Old Harbor to meet the next ferry. Some people like to come to Block Island in early to mid-May. The hotels and restaurants are open, but they don’t have to contend with the crowds. Steve takes advantage of the situation and waits next to his Explorer, offering his services to anyone lugging a bag off the boat.