The Lover’s Secret (No Exceptions #1)(21)
Author: J.C. Reed

But it didn’t matter. As I passed him by, he remained engrossed in the article he was reading and didn’t look up. He didn’t even react when an elderly woman entered, obnoxiously dressed in furs, carrying a mini-schnauzer in her large bag. Even when the yappy little dog let out an ear-piercing bark, the man did not flinch.

I, on the other hand, jumped, suddenly aware of the squeaky canine and the way the noise seemed to carry, lingering in the air.

Calm the f**k down, Stewart.

Ignoring my own advice, I peered around me in a panic. People turned their heads to glare in the woman’s direction. Everyone seemed on alert, disturbed by the sound, and several seemed annoyed that the woman could not control her pet—everyone but the mysterious guy with the newspaper. He was the only one who wasn’t unnerved by it.

I stared at him and frowned.

He didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the woman or her dog. He just continued reading, entirely unaffected or perhaps unaware. His unnatural focus irked me and raised my suspicion.

My pulse spiked, and my heart began to slam just a bit harder against my rib cage.

Calm down. It’s just an irrational reaction in a harmless situation.

My therapist had once declared that I had the unnerving tendency to feel things that weren’t there, things that didn’t even exist. “That’s just your anxiety talking,” he had said, “and those irrational fears will create doubt.” It was one of the reasons why I couldn’t trust people. Still, the knowledge didn’t stop the unease wreaking havoc inside me.

Wrapping the coat tighter around my waist, I dashed out the door and headed for the small bistro at the end of the street, ignoring the curious glances cast my way. No one seemed to be running, and the fact that I was probably made me look like a fugitive on the run in this part of New York City.

It was barely eleven a.m., and although the autumn air had filled with a chilly wind, the snow had stopped falling sometime during the night. Judging from the dark November clouds and the way the weather changed constantly, it looked like the snow was going to be replaced by rain.

I stepped into the small bistro. The warm air inside was more than welcome. In the far east corner of the open space, I spotted Sylvie. She had already taken her preferred spot, next to an oversized potted plant and the window overlooking the busy street. Her head was bowed over her smartphone, her fingers sliding over the touch screen while she texted. I had no idea how she did it, but her appearance was more flawless than ever. Even on the worst of her days, she looked as if she was about to enter a beauty contest. With her tan complexion, blonde hair, and blue eyes that resembled the deep Southern sky on a summer day, she would have won the first place.

She looked like an angel in disguise, sent from heaven above. I had no doubt that if anyone tried to cause me any harm Sylvie would jump right into the action and take a bullet for me. As long as there was no robbery or a creepy neighbor involved, she was in every way fearless, and no one would want to mess with her. The knowledge that I knew my best friend so well brought new tears to my eyes.

You’re being emotional, Stewart.

Damn right, my hormones were raging again, slowly turning me into either a rampant psycho or a crying heap, whose waterworks might just start flowing at the mere sight of a baby seal. I couldn’t wait for the pregnancy to be over and done with, if only to let me regain some of my emotional balance.

As I headed for Sylvie, her eyes caught mine, but her smile quickly turned into a look of suspicion. I couldn’t stop the tiny tremble from running down my spine. She had been my best friend for a long time. As such, she knew everything about me, including the ugly past I was still trying to forget. The way she seemed to look right through me, I felt vulnerable and exposed. I figured if Sylvie were an android, her eyes would be like X-rays, able to penetrate the deepest layers of tissue and discover all the things better left buried forever.

I shrugged out of my coat and draped it over a chair, then sat down.

“Nice, Brooke.” Sylvie nodded appreciatively as she pointed at my dress.

No point in lying.

“It was Jett’s idea,” I said. “I borrowed it from your wardrobe.”

“He has a good taste. I’ll give him that.” Grinning, she hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks. “How was your night at the TRIO?”

And the inquisition was beginning…now.

I watched her lean forward. “And don’t leave out any details. I want to hear it all.”

Did I have to? I shook my head. At times, I wished she didn’t know so much about my life. It was a futile wish, an energy wasted, because Sylvie was as intense as a hurricane and had the iron will of a bulldog, mixed with the sixth sense of a hawk. Intuition came naturally to her. For all I knew, she might be psychic. Having no choice, I began carefully, “It was beautiful. Jett was very attentive, as usual.”

Sylvie smirked and waved at me, a gesture intended to dig a little deeper.

Absent-mindedly, I scanned the small bistro as I prepared my words. Apart from the two of us and an elderly couple sitting close to the entrance, there were no other patrons. I watched the way the old man’s hand rested naturally on the old lady’s as they talked in an animated fashion, as if they still had a lot to talk about, even after so many years. They were having a good time, just like Jett and I had before the disruption and before he revealed his views on marriage. Above Sylvie’s head, a huge heart painting hung on the wall. It seemed that no matter where I looked, I was reminded of love and Jett, and of the hours that were stolen from us. The day had started as ours, and I wished it had stayed that way.

“Whoa. You look weird. Did something happen?” Sylvie’s excited voice drew my attention back to her. “Did he propose? You know, whatever happened, I should be the first to know, because I’m your best friend, right?” she said with a wink. “I’ll be seriously pissed if I find out that you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

I winced.

Her words stung. It wasn’t so much that Sylvie would think I’d actually break our girls’ code and keep a secret, but the fact that what I had been hoping for didn’t happen. When Jett had declared that he’d booked a weekend for us, I’d convinced myself it would be capped off with a ring on my finger—or at least a request to put one there. He’d been talking about a future together, and I was sure he was ready to make a big commitment. When Jett didn’t propose, I realized, quite painfully, that it had been nothing but wishful thinking on my part.