“Are things…”
I hesitate, unsure of where my question will lead. Josiah never pressured me when I couldn’t drag myself out of the black hole, when just opening my eyes and breathing felt like a chore. He shielded me from how bad things had gotten financially at the restaurant. We thought we’d have time to train, to settle, to grow. Instead we lost Byrdie, our linchpin, in the middle of the biggest transition our little business had ever experienced. It wasn’t until my fog started clearing that I realized how close we’d come to losing this place. To losing everything.
“Si, are we in trouble again? I can—”
“We’re good.” The hard, handsome cast of his features softens a little. “For real, business has never been better.”
“If I need to do more around here, I can adjust some stuff.”
“You’re where we need you most.” His reply is quiet but sure. His dark eyes, steady. “Knowing you’ve got the kids, their lessons, are serving on the PTA committees and keeping up with their grades, it’s freeing me up to focus here and make sure we’re all right. That westayall right.”
Both kids struggled some after the divorce. Deja especially became increasingly defiant and her grades have suffered. With Josiah handling so much at the restaurant after Byrd died, we agreed I would focus more on home and giving them as much stability as possible.
“Well, if things change, let me know,” I say, forcing lightness into my voice, into the room. “Team Wade, right?”
That used to be our rallying cry when things got tough. Whatever needed doing, we did it together. A muscle in his jaw flexes, and he cuts his gaze away from mine to some point over my shoulder. Maybe to some point in the past, reliving the turmoil of the last few years like I do more often than I’d like to admit. His prolonged silence becomes smothering, and my breath shortens again.
“Anytime you want to be the one hauling Deja’s ungrateful ass to dance lessons,” I say wryly, hoping to dispel the heaviness that entered the room. “Lemme know. We can trade.”
He shifts his glance back to me and the distant look in his eyes fades. “I’d rather work day and night. You can have that.”
His full lips quirk at the corners, and I find myself smiling back. Josiah’s face is interesting enough to make handsome look mundane, though the man is undeniably fine. The kind of fine that makes you lose your train of thought midsentence and bite your lip. Gorgeous dark skin gleams, pulled taut over the high sculpted bones of his face. To be so controlled, nearly austere, there is something boundless about his presence. Standing here with him, that energy, an amalgamation of ambition and audacity and swagger, swirls around us in the office. It’s like being corked into a bottle with a typhoon.
His brows lift, querying. I’m staring.
“Oh.” I turn my back to him, as much to recover my composure as to get my zipper up. “It’s stuck. Can ya help?”
He doesn’t answer, and his steps are so quiet I barely hear him cross the room, so the heat of his body warming my exposed skin startles me. The backs of his fingers brush over my spine as he pulls the zipper. It doesn’t budge at first, so he has to tug. Even just that whisper of a touch reminds my skin how to goose-bump. I glance over my shoulder and up, my breath hitching when our eyes collide. The air around us practically crackles, charged with a familiar current I’d forgotten was even possible.
He clears his throat and slides the zipper to the top. “There you go.”
I turn to face him and am unprepared for how close he stands. I’m barefoot and my view narrows to the broad chest and shoulders of the man in front of me. We’re not alone like this often anymore, leading separate lives that only intersect at our kids and our business. Kassim and Deja are usually around, or staff, friends, coaches, teachers. It’s rarely just us. We used to know each other better than anyone. Now I’m not even sure what he watches in the little free time he has away from this place, or really what he does at all.
“Have you seenOzark?” I ask.
The thick line of his brows dips. “Nah. Should I?”
“It’s one of the best shows I’ve seen in a really long time. The acting, directing. The writing is stellar.”
I’m rambling. I want to shove a sock in my mouth to make it stop running.
“I’ll have to, uh…check it out.” He glances at the door. “I need to get back to Granders.”
“Yeah.” I reach into the bottom of my suit bag to grab my green heels, bending to slip them on. “I gotta go too.”
He runs a thorough glance from my head to my shoes. “You look…nice.”
“Nice?” I scoop up the suit bag, now stuffed with my clothes, and speed to the door, grinning over my shoulder. “Pfftt. I look amazing.”
He shakes his head, allowing a small smile. “You look amazing. Have a good time.”
“I’ll try not to be out too late. And don’t let the kids stay up all night, Si. They have school tomorrow.”
“Like I’m the pushover parent.”
We both know he is, so I just stare at him until his smile broadens to that startling brightness that will snatch your breath if you let it.
“Get outta here,” he says. “I’ll see you at the house.”