Chapter 7
842 Words
7
Sara
I expect someone from Peter’s crew to take me to the clinic, but Peter himself is waiting for me by the curb.
I grin, some of my tiredness fading as his eyes skim over my body before settling hungrily on my face.
“Hi.” I walk straight into his embrace and inhale deeply as his strong arms close around me, pressing me tightly against his chest. He smells warm, clean, and distinctly male—a familiar Peter scent I now associate with comfort.
He holds me for a few long moments, then pulls back to gaze down at me. “How was your day, my love?” he asks softly, brushing my hair off my face.
I beam up at him. “Crazy busy, but all better now.” I’m ridiculously overjoyed that he came to bring me to the clinic himself.
He grins back at me. “Miss me, did you?”
“I did,” I admit as he opens the car door and helps me in. “I really did.”
His answering smile makes me want to melt into the seat. “And I missed you, ptichka.”
“I’m sorry I have to do this,” I say as we pull away from the curb. The car smells of something deliciously spicy, and my stomach rumbles as I say, “I was really looking forward to having a nice dinner at home.”
Peter glances at me. “I brought you dinner. It’s on the back seat.”
“You did?” I turn around in my seat and spot the source of the delicious smell—another lunch bag. “Wow, thank you. You didn’t have to, but I really appreciate it.” Stretching, I grab the bag and put it on my lap.
I was going to buy some pretzels from a vending machine at the clinic, but this is infinitely better.
“Why do you have to do this?” Peter asks, stopping at a red light. His tone is casual, but I’m not fooled.
He was looking forward to our dinner as well.
“I really am sorry,” I say, and I mean it. When Lydia, the receptionist at the clinic, called me at lunchtime, I came very close to refusing her pleas—but in the end, the knowledge that a few dozen women would miss out on their cancer screenings and essential prenatal care if I didn’t show up won out. “They’re short of volunteers today, and I couldn’t leave them in the lurch.”
He gives me a sidelong look. “Couldn’t you?”
I pause in the middle of opening the lunch bag. “No,” I say evenly. “I couldn’t.”
Here it is, what I was afraid of all along. I suspected it was only a matter of time before my long hours would start bothering Peter, and it seems that I was right to worry.
Tensing, I prepare to hear an ultimatum, but Peter just presses on the gas, accelerating smoothly.
“Eat, my love,” he says in the same casual tone. “You don’t have a lot of time.”
I follow his suggestion and dig into the food—a vegetable medley with couscous and roasted chicken. The seasoning reminds me of the delicious lamb kebab Peter made for us back in Japan, and I inhale everything in a matter of minutes.
“Thank you,” I say, wiping my mouth with a paper towel he so thoughtfully packed along with the utensils. “That was amazing.”
“You’re welcome.” He turns onto the street where the clinic is and parks right in front of the building. “Come, I’ll walk you in.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—” I stop because he’s already walking around the car.
Opening the door for me, he helps me out and shepherds me to the building, as though I might wander off if he doesn’t keep a hand on the small of my back.
I expect him to stop when we reach the door, but he comes inside with me.
Confused, I stop and look up at him. “What are you doing?”
“There you are!” Lydia hurries toward me, her broad face relieved. “Thank God. I thought you weren’t going to— Oh, hi.” She blushes, staring at Peter with what I can only interpret as a full-blown crush.
“Peter was just—” I start, but he smiles and steps forward.
“Peter Garin. We met at our wedding,” he says, extending his hand.
The receptionist’s eyes go wide, and she clasps his hand, giving it a vigorous shake. “Lydia,” she says breathlessly. “Congrats again. It was a beautiful event.”
“Thank you.” He grins at her, and I can almost sense her swooning on the inside. “You know, Sara just told me you’re short on volunteers today. I’m no doctor, obviously, but maybe there’s something I can do to help out around here tonight? Maybe you have some files that need sorting, or something that needs fixing? We only have one car for now, and I’d rather not drive back and forth to pick up Sara.”
“Oh, of course.” Lydia’s excitement level visibly quadruples. “Please, there’s so much work. And did you say you’re handy? Do you by any chance also know something about computers? Because there’s this stubborn software program…”
She leads him away, chattering, and I stare in disbelief as my assassin husband disappears around the corner without so much as a look back.
- Writer
