Derek looked uncomfortable for a beat before plastering on a pleasant, but lifeless expression. I remembered our past conversations, his discomfort in social situations. I was finding every message and call with D was difficult to reconcile with the real Derek. When D had told me he struggled socially, I thought he meant office meetings and parties—not televised interviews and public meets and greets. And on the surface, I wasn’t sure why he felt so socially inept. He was so good-looking and obviously smart. What made him feel like such an outsider?
I decided to intervene, ease the awkwardness of him dealing with another fan. I smiled beatifically at the man and held up my book. “You can have mine. He’ll sign it for you.”
His eyes lit up as he turned my way before quickly fading as he stared in horror at my copy of The Darkest War. The man’s lips twisted in distaste at the book and my smile slipped. “I guess that’s a thanks but no thanks.”
Derek looked over at me, laughing softly under his breath. He reached into the messenger bag at his side and pulled out a clean copy. “Here you go. Who should I make it out to…?”
“My name is Rob. Thanks, man. That means a lot.” I rolled my eyes as I waited for Derek to finish. I couldn’t even give this book away. Plus, I had nine other books to read before I could even understand it.
Finally, after a few minutes of the guy fanboying over the New Colony, he thankfully left us alone. Derek turned to me, finally seeming more at ease. “What interview did you see?”
All of them I could find online, I silently answered. Instead, I said, “The one on the NBC Lunch Hour. You quoted me, so after I heard that, it was a given you were D.”
He leaned back in his chair. Gesturing to the coffee, he asked, “Is this for me?”
“Yes. You told me before about liking your coffee black. I figured I owed you an apology coffee for not telling you right away about seeing the interview.”
While he took a careful sip of his coffee, I wondered what was going on in his head. I had time to process his identity, so I could imagine him playing catchup. Was he ultimately happy we were finally meeting? He kept his dark, expressive eyes trained on me, his face analytical, but not letting me in on exactly what he was figuring out.
Finally, he said, “You’ve seemed distant lately, so I understand why now. I actually thought there was another reason.”
“What other reason?”
He shrugged, but I could tell he wasn’t being forthcoming. “Nothing. I was obviously wrong.”
I decided not to question him further, not certain if I’d like the direction of his thoughts. Plus, he had earned the right to keep his feelings closely guarded. Tossing back my hair, I tried for a cheery smile. “So, you’re a writer, that’s interesting. You always seemed to work erratic hours, so I had guesses for your job, but not an author.”
“I have a word count I try to reach each day, but I don’t write during set hours. Sometimes I’ll wake up and pound out a chapter. Other times I go until three in the morning.”
“And you have a fan base. Wow, I’m impressed. Seriously, that’s amazing.”
His lips quirked up in amusement. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No, of course not,” I protested. I folded my arms across my chest. “I warned you it’d be awkward when we met.”
“I don’t feel awkward. I wanted this for a long time. Although it’s not how I pictured it, I’m still happy you’re here.” And his words felt authentic. He wasn’t showing the same discomfort as I witnessed earlier. I made him feel less guarded for some unknown reason.
“I’m happy too,” I admitted, feeling shy again.
Before I could continue, his agent strode toward our table. Her expression wasn’t friendly as she looked me over before turning to Derek. “We have to leave now if we’re going to make it to Brooklyn in time. My phone is estimating over an hour with the traffic.”
Derek didn’t respond to her directive and instead gave her a tense smile. “Pamela, this is Alyssa.”
“Nice to meet you,” I chirped in an annoying upbeat tone. I didn’t like the way she was looking at me with open distaste, making me question if Pamela was more than a professional acquaintance.
Derek gave me a knowing look as Pamela replied, “Nice to meet you too. Sorry to steal him away, but he really does have to go.” She slipped me a media page with Derek’s headshot and a listing of upcoming events. “Here’s his release schedule. Maybe you could attend another event soon.”
Oh, I realized looking at the schedule. I was pinned as a Derek Walsh fangirl. There had been quite a few attractive women in the crowd earlier, so maybe this was a norm. Likely there were lots of women throwing themselves at him and it was up to Pamela to run interference.
“We’re good, Pamela. Give me a few and then we’ll head to Brooklyn.” Pamela didn’t look pleased over Derek’s words, but managed a stiff nod before turning on her heel and storming off.
“Do you really have to go to Brooklyn?”
He gave me a funny look. “Yes, why?”
“I thought maybe it was a line to help you make a clean getaway.”
“I have another signing in Brooklyn.” He cocked his head as he looked at me. “Why don’t you come?”
I shook my head before pushing back out of my chair. “I think Pamela will probably have me banned from all future signings.” I shrugged. “Rightfully so. I’m hijacking the writer from his authorly duties.”
He stood up too, moving closer to me than I expected. He was so tall and broad, I couldn’t help but feel small and delicate standing before him. He was masculine in a way that left me weak-kneed and tongue-tied. His voice was soft, tender almost. “Come with me anyway. Or can we meet later?”
“I’m not sure.”
His perfection was unsettling. I wasn’t used to beautiful things that weren’t shallow. Made me mistrustful, although his behavior as D should’ve reassured me of his intentions.
“Alyssa, please. You came here for a reason. Did I answer whatever question you had about me?”
He was right. I had come to see if whatever attraction I’d built up in my head would actually still be there when I met him in person. Of course, I wanted him still. And even if for some reason he had a sudden fetish for short, curvy brunettes, he wasn’t ready to date. I wasn’t Emily and could never be her.
And there were other reasons we couldn’t work. We were too damaged, had too many battle scars from relationships. Most of our conversations were about depressing things, not the sweet nothings most people exchanged at the start of a new relationship.
I gave him a measured look. “Can I ask you a science question?” He nodded, so I continued. “What happens to two negative charged magnets when they come together? Are they attracted to one another or do they repel?”
He didn’t answer me immediately, quietly mulling over his words. I never expected someone who looked like him could have anything in common with me. But he had a deep side, an introspective quality I found surprising. “The magnets repel, but they are forced apart like they actually are meant to come together, but something external drives them apart.”
We stared at each other, his eyes holding a challenge in them. I looked away first. “I should go, but it was great to meet you. I’m sorry again for accosting you this way.”
His look was grim. “Why won’t you go to dinner with me?”
My head shot up, surprised over the invitation. “You still want to go to dinner?”
He blew out a frustrated breath. “Alyssa, if you’re not interested in me, then you can just say it and put me out of my misery here.”
“Your misery? I don’t understand.”
“Alyssa, let me make myself clear then.” Leaning in, he whispered in a low, urgent voice. “I think about you constantly and your messages, your calls, have become the best part of an otherwise miserable fucking life. I understand why you’re not sure about me, but I want you to give me a chance. Please, let me see you again.”
I was speechless. This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t actually want me. He had been moored in grief for ages. Why would he suddenly want to restart his life with me?
The problem was I wanted to be dragged under with him and that was only more confirmation over how fucked up I was in the head.
“You need to go,” I whispered.
“Alyssa—”
“No, seriously. Pamela is behind you at the door and looks ready to end us both.” And then I was prepared to say goodbye. I had to let him go. I couldn’t grasp why he wanted me or the depth of how much I wanted him back, but I understood it wasn’t the right time. Maybe if we weren’t so broken, it would work, but it couldn’t now.
Yet, instead of walking away, I reached for him. I wrapped myself around him and pressed my cheek against the hard planes of his chest. I breathed in his Christmas tree smell and just let myself go. For a perfect minute, I pictured I was his and I was the only one who mattered to him. There was no Emily or Jake. We were whole and healed and could be together.
His arms were around me, pulling me even closer. His breath tickled the top of my hair and I memorized the feel of him. I was saying goodbye for our own sakes, but I wanted to have this first and last sensation to hold onto.
When I let him go, I smiled despite the sensation of my heart breaking. He didn’t return the smile, but instead gave me a burning look, an intense stare that told me he was feeling just as strongly about me in that moment. Whatever we had over the phone paled to how penetrating the moment felt. I couldn’t prolong the goodbye any longer.
Gathering up my belongings, I wished him luck at his signing. He didn’t reply because my brave face wasn’t fooling him. He knew I wouldn’t pick up the phone ever again. He knew I was saying goodbye for good.
Chapter Twelve
Going out with Derek was an unfathomable risk to my heart. His friendship would be welcomed, but we crossed a line at some point and I wasn’t sure we could go back. I should’ve never gone to his book signing. It was reckless.
With Derek, I wanted what I never had with Jake. But I had to be realistic. Derek had issues—major grief he was nowhere near recovering from. He hadn’t so much as dated since Emily and I wasn’t sure I was built to act as his practice girl. Maybe if I didn’t know so much about Emily, hadn’t read every single intimate thing he had wanted to say to his dead fiancée, we could make it work. But I wouldn’t soon forget the words: I miss everything about you and won’t move on.
It had been less than three months since he sent the message. His resolve couldn’t have changed so drastically since that time.
He had experienced a pain I couldn’t even fathom. Pain so raw, so powerful that the aftershocks never stopped coming.
For so long, I was the head in the sand girl, the one who turned away from anything hard. I was trying to change, but leaving Jake and everyone else behind had brought enough turmoil in my life. I’d never again fight for another relationship that was doomed from the start.
Being near him made me lose sight of my life goals. It wasn’t the right time to start something. We both had to focus on building new lives. After leaving the bookstore, I turned my phone off for good, making a promise to myself I’d avoid the temptation of checking my messages. Besides Birdie and Jenny, Derek would be the only one to call on the phone, so it was an easy avoidance technique.
I hated my indecisiveness, but there were too many parts of me driving my decisions. My body and heart wanted him desperately, but my head warned me of how toxic falling for him would be.
Although I didn’t want to think about Derek, I couldn’t stop either. Imagining him as another person made it easier to compartmentalize. Real life Derek was harder to banish from my thoughts. Turning off my phone and avoiding any further Google stalking did nothing to lessen my want for him. He was excruciatingly beautiful and I found him completely desirable. I longed for him in my bed at night, touching me until I came with his sexy whisper in my ear. My lust was so powerful, I convinced myself at times maybe I didn’t need anything else from him. We could sate each other, cure the loneliness, albeit temporarily, and then return to our own heartbreaks.
Summer was coming to an end, so the diner was annoyingly slow. I desired a distraction, something to help curb lusting after Derek Walsh. My days consisted of work and then home to read or watch TV. I would occasionally visit with Birdie at the shop, but she was too observant and could see I was in a funk. Until I started nursing classes, she told me I could spend my free time helping her put together flower arrangements. In desperation, I even put in a call to Dee, volunteering to cover any waitressing shifts she needed a fill. Loneliness was a sickness and I couldn’t use Derek Walsh as a cure.
“He wants the toast burnt. That’s apparently well-done.” I was arguing with Ahmed, who looked ready to strangle me over another ridiculous food request from a table. Our cook had a permanent scowl on his face, never bothering to conceal his dislike of me.
Ahmed made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “He just wants to take a little photo and then trash us on Facebook over our food. I’ve seen it a million times. It will ruin Dee’s good name.”
I shrugged. “I’ll confiscate his phone first, but give me the toast before he thinks we’re back here spitting in his food.”
Before Ahmed could reply, Jenny burst through the kitchen with a wild look in her eyes. Her ponytail had come loose with blond tendrils falling down her shoulders. “Too many crazy waitresses in my kitchen,” Ahmed huffed before turning back to work on my customer’s burnt toast.
“What’s the matter?” I eyed her up with wary. Jenny could go from zero to crazed with excitement over the smallest of things.
“What’s the matter? Are you serious? I’m so close to smacking you and refusing to ever speak to you again. I thought we were friends!” Her eyes bulged out of her head and I’d never seen her so pissed before. And as waitresses in a small-town, crappy diner, we had plenty of customers who pissed us off.
“Is table five complaining to you? Because I’m getting his burnt toast right now,” I said, starting to pile plates on my tray.
She grabbed the tray from me, setting it down on a nearby prep table. “You have a server request.” She sounded scandalized, as if the idea of any of our regulars requesting me was unfathomable.
I gave her a devastating smile. “Jealous? I finally got a regular and you don’t like the competition.”
She put her hands on her hips as she practically snarled in my direction. “Not jealous, only completely fucking lost over why my good friend failed to tell me she knew Derek Walsh.”
“What?” I yelped, sidestepping her to peek out the smudged windows of the kitchen door. I couldn’t make out much, but at the back of the restaurant sat a lone, dark-haired man.
“He came in and asked to sit in Alyssa’s section. What the hell are you playing at? When that interview was on, you acted like you had no idea who he was.” Jenny sounded livid. She had been good to me and I betrayed her by holding out on her about Derek.
“I didn’t know who he was,” I said softly. When I turned back around, her face demonstrated her utter disbelief. I clarified, “I mean, I’d been talking to him for a while, but I had no idea he was famous until I saw the interview.”
“More likely infamous,” Jenny mumbled. Her tight features relaxed as she stared at me. She blinked rapidly before raising her voice. “Holy fuck, he’s D? He was the one texting you to hook up and you had no idea he was the author with the murdered wife? No wonder you were acting crazy when the interview came on. Damn, girl, I warned you about internet dating.”
“They weren’t married,” I managed, ignoring the rest of her concerns as she picked up my abandoned tray of food.
“Are you sure he’s innocent? I hope so because he is all kinds of yummy.” Fanning her face, she continued to gape at me. “Oh god, have you had sex with him yet? Is he into weird shit? Like if he asks to choke you that could be a warning sign that he
did kill her.”
I pinched her arm, almost causing her to drop the tray. “No, I haven’t had sex with him and you keep forgetting he was across the country when she was killed.”
“Will you two get the hell out of my kitchen and serve up this food before it gets sent back?” Ahmed practically shouted. He looked primed to launch the dishrag in his hand at us both.
“Sorry,” I mouthed to him. In response, he gave me a disgusted look before turning back to the grill.
“I’ll take table five’s food out for you, but I want details later.” Jenny shook her head in amazement. “I still can’t believe, the you up guy is Derek Walsh.”
With a steadying breath, I pushed through the swinging doors. The diner was thankfully quiet with only a couple regulars staring with interest at Derek. If he had come in on a weekend, his table would’ve been swarmed with cantankerous old men like Mr. Fredericks.
His dark eyes lit up when he saw me. He gave me a little wave while I took hesitant steps in his direction. He looked pleased to see me, despite me blowing him off for days.
“You found me.” We had been in a game of hide and seek, but there was no more disappearing apparently for either of us.
“I did.” He leaned back in his booth, looking proud of himself. “You gave me enough clues to track you down. You said you lived in a small town about twenty minutes away from me in an apartment over a flower shop. After a few calls, your delightful landlady picked up.” He grinned at the memory, making me certain Birdie had left an impression. “Before she would tell me where you worked, though, she threatened to cut off my balls if I was your ex-boyfriend. I had to give a blood oath that my intentions were honorable before she pointed me to the diner.”
“Very resourceful.”
“You haven’t returned any of my calls or messages. Is something wrong with your phone? I keep getting your voicemail.”
With a peek behind me, I saw Jenny was aimlessly wiping down the counter while spying on me and Derek. I decided to take the seat across from him, knowing she would grab me if we miraculously had a rush.
The Despair of Strangers Page 11
