Love The Way You Kiss Me - Willow Winters Page 0,5

slip away back to the corners of my sorrowful mind. I wish they would stay. I wish I could go back to them more than anything.

With a shaky breath blown out from between my slightly parted lips, I bring my eyes up to a kind gaze, although behind it is intention.

“I’m sorry,” I respond respectfully, taking in the fact that I am not at all alone, although it certainly felt like I was for a moment. For a very long moment, if I’m honest; too long of a moment. “What was that?”

The gentleman named Cade is the owner of a company my manager holds more confidence in than I do. I focus on his rather large hands as he forms a loose fist to clear his throat again. He’s nervous and for the life of me, I can’t understand why Kamden put his faith in him. Once he’s done clearing his throat, he repeats his question. “When was the last time you were here?”

Letting out an exhale that’s far from easy, but for his comfort, I allow it to be seemingly casual, I respond, “Over a year.” He tucks in his tie, although his deep green eyes never leave mine. There’s kindness there. He’s professional but kind. I add, “Maybe two by now.” My voice turns raspy at the last two words. I’m still recovering and I’ve barely spoken for the last few months as it is.

There’s been no one to talk to. No one I’ve wanted to hold a conversation with either. For a moment the memories of laughter and happier times threaten to come back and instead I hold the poor man hostage in a trivial conversation.

Gesturing to the nearly empty space, I tell him, “Last time I was here we furnished the foyer with the rug and bench, and I intended to finish the space …” my voice trails off and I don’t bother finishing. With my chest feeling hollow, I remind myself that I don’t owe them anything. Not an explanation, not an answer.

“We can work on that, if you’d like,” he offers and it takes me a moment too long to understand that he’s referring to picking out furniture for this far too large house.

Nodding, I take a half step back, my cobalt wool coat providing the only warmth I feel as it’s draped over both my arms that are crossed in front of me. “We could start by turning on the heat?” I joke, keeping my cadence as smooth as I can and my voice gentle, to make up for my tardiness in comprehension. As if on command, there’s a click of the furnace that’s undeniable, and rather unsettling.

The white macael porcelain flooring is elegant and fresh, but is at odds with the vintage, pale and distressed medallion rug I chose years ago. The entirety of this home consists of shades of creams and dark blues. Modern furniture with retro accents and polished copper details only add to the iciness of the mountain setting when we came here to ski for the winter. It’s a careful mix of hard and soft, but I never realized until now just how cold it all is.

My initial instinct is to start fresh and redesign everything; I used to love doing that. Donating what’s here and bringing in new pieces, playing with color and all things from the newest collections. My teeth bite down on the tip of my tongue at the thought. A moment flashes before my eyes as I stare at the thick rug, and I know then I’ll never replace a thing that graces this home.

“Is there anything you’d like before we start?” he questions me. I have to lift my chin to look up at him. I’m rather tall, all legs so I’ve been told, but this man with his broad shoulders is even taller. He resembles the other man in the courtroom, the one whose dark gaze pinned me more than once. A chill runs down my spine at the thought, although the rest of me seems to heat with anxiousness.

“I think I’m fine for now,” I offer with a tight smile I’m all too aware doesn’t reach my eyes.

Silently, Cade nods.

One breath in, and he offers to take my coat for me. One breath out and he leaves my side. It feels like all the warmth in the room leaves with him although he’s only a few short feet away.

The din of chatter drifts toward us and muddled within is the familiar,