Fall into Me (Heart of Stone #2)(24)
Author: K.M. Scott

Easing back onto the sofa, I let myself enjoy the luxury. He did know how to live.

"Don’t get too comfortable," he announced as he entered the room, his arms full with a yellow plastic bowl overflowing with buttery popcorn and a roll of paper towels.

I sat up quickly, unsure what he meant. "Why?"

"We need to have some of this popcorn. Three pans of Jiffy Pop popcorn are here waiting for us to dig in."

He placed the bowl on the coffee table in the center of the sofa and walked back to begin the movie as I took a handful of popcorn. The familiar taste of that buttery and salty snack was delicious, even after our perfectly prepared steak dinner.

Popping another kernel in my mouth, I looked back at him. "I haven’t had Jiffy Pop in years! I wouldn’t think you’d be a Jiffy Pop guy."

He shook his head. "I’m not. I’d never had it before you asked for it one night when we watched one of your chick flicks."

I twisted my face into a look of fake disgust at his cheap shot at my favorite type of movie. "So when did you run out to get some Jiffy Pop in the last twenty minutes?"

He sat down beside me as the movie began. "I didn’t. We have it here all the time since you told me you liked it."

"Oh. Well, that’s good to know. You know, just in case I decide I want popcorn at two in the morning."

Tristan’s casual statement rocked me. I tried to hide how much it meant to me behind my joking, but I was truly touched by his attentiveness.

"So are you ready for some Iron Man 2?"

"And this is what you call haggling? I’m not getting a chick flick vibe here," I teased.

Putting his arm around me, he pulled me close and grinned. "Yes and no. It’s not a chick flick, but it’s got great cars and there’s a girl."

"Please tell me you at least believe I like this movie."

As the film began and he dimmed the lights, he softly kissed my lips. "You do. Trust me."

I ended up loving the movie, and by the time we fell asleep in each other’s arms right there in the media room, I was almost convinced that, in the end, my heart would have the final say instead of my head.

The winter sun warmed my room as it woke me the next morning. I rolled over and focused on the clock. 8:05. Looking around, I saw I was in my bedroom tucked under the covers. I vaguely remembered Tristan carrying me there and putting me to bed after the movie.

As I slowly came back to life, I saw a sheet of white paper on the pillow next to me. As was his habit, Tristan had left me his own version of a good morning kiss. No envelope this time. Just a sheet of stationery.

Dear Nina,

Thank you for the movie date. I’m happy you enjoyed it. I’ll be busy all day, but tonight I thought we’d visit one of our favorite restaurants. I’ll pick you up at six sharp.

                                                 Love,

                                                 Tristan

My eyes slid over the words, noting each stroke of his handwriting. I’d grown to love these notes from him, even feeling disappointed when he didn’t leave one. As I reread his letter, I wondered what restaurant he meant. I guessed I’d see at six.

After a quick shower, I dressed in a cute navy blue sweater dress and knee-high boots and headed to the kitchen for some much needed coffee. As I sipped the French Vanilla roast blend, I thought about the day ahead of me, nervous about what I’d find out.

"Miss, is there anything you need?"

I looked around and saw Rogers standing in the doorway. His expression was kind, as it had been the day I arrived at this house, but he watched me like a hawk, his dark eyes following every move I made. With his slicked back steel grey hair and long face, he reminded me of a maître d’ at one of those exclusive restaurants.

Lifting my mug of coffee, I smiled and shook my head. "Got everything I need. Thanks. I’ll pick something up to eat in the city when I go shopping."

As soon as I said the words, I felt guilty, as if going to visit someone from my past was a bad thing. Lying had never been something I was good at. I knew Tristan’s butler saw my guilt too. Something in the way his eyes grew wider for just a moment told me he didn’t believe me.

He stood silently looking at me, and every second that went by I grew more uncomfortable. I began to fidget and my eyes darted around the room to avoid his stare. Finally, I croaked out, "Well, guess it’s time to head out. Have a good one."

Rogers nodded slowly and moved aside to allow me to pass, but I felt his eyes on me the whole time. I couldn’t tell if it was my own guilty conscience or his silent judging me about something else, but I felt sick all of a sudden.

"Jensen, I’m meeting Jordan to shop, so feel free to take a break. Get some lunch," I chirped out to Tristan’s driver.

He lowered his slightly graying head and smiled. I didn’t get any sense that he suspected me of anything as Rogers seemed to have, so I happily marched into Macy’s and waited for what seemed like long enough before I ducked out the nearest exit.

Out to Cal’s office four blocks away.

I raced up the street, walking as fast as I could in my boots, among the throngs of people headed out on their day’s business. As I passed the men and women on their way to wherever they were going, I wondered if any of them was like me—going to talk to a ghost from her past.

Cal’s office was on the fifteenth floor of a typical skyscraper in Manhattan. I stepped inside the building and looked for the elevator, eager to speak to him and hopefully find out what about me had made it so easy for him to turn his back on my love. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, to be honest, but I was sure I needed to.

The elevator stopped on his floor, and I stepped out into a greeting area for the firm he worked for as an actuary. I’d found out he worked at Peak International with just a few minutes of online searching, and as I stood behind a gentleman in an overcoat waiting to speak to the receptionist, I began to doubt my initial idea of meeting with Cal.

The reception area was modest, with older chairs and a carpet that reminded me of the cream and burgundy print one my grandmother had in her living room when I was a child. The walls were off white, but I couldn’t decide if they’d been painted that shade or aged to that color.