Page 43 of Leather & Lark

I might not know her well, but she doesn’t seem the same since that experience in the elevator. And I need to know why.

Also, I am now unequivocally sure that I am an even bigger dickhead than I ever imagined.

The image of Lark sitting in the trunk of my car replays on a vivid loop in my mind. There was fear in her eyes. Determination too. Though they welled with tears, she blinked them away. Shebegged.

And I pushed her down and closed the lid.

“Feckin’ eejit,” I mutter, barely aware that I’ve said it out loud.

If Lark and I are going to figure out what the hell is going on and get what we both want out of this marriage, we’re going to have to work together. And we can’t do that if she’s falling apart at the seams. If I want to figure Lark out, I’m going to have to do it through her, not around her. And I’m way out of my feckin’ depth.

I’ve done a lot of dodgy shit in my life. Life has worn down most of my emotions to little more than smooth and polished stone. But every once in a while, I find a long-neglected feelingthat cuts like broken glass. Such as, for example, the intense discomfort of the realization that I need to ask my sister-in-law for help.

I pick up my phone and start a new text to Sloane.

Eyeball spider lady, I humbly request a truce.

Didn’t I just tell you to pick up a fucking book?

Christ Jesus. You are so acerbic.

Thank you. What the fuck do you want now?

Are you and Rowan free for lunch today at B&B? I want to invite Lark, but maybe she’ll be more comfortable if you’re there.

There’s a long pause before the three dots start dancing on my screen.

OMFG I KNEW THERE WAS A GOOEY CENTER IN THERE SOMEWHERE

YES WE WILL BE THERE. Rowan is off at 2pm, let me know if that works.

You’re still an asshat though. Just so we’re clear.

I try not to smile, but it happens anyway.

I need a few deep breaths before I manage to type out my next message. It takes me a surprisingly long time to come up with:

Hey.

At first I think she’s not going to respond, and I’m almost about to tap out a second message when Lark’s reply comes through.

What’s wrong?

My brows feel too tight as I stare down at the phone in my hands.

Nothing … I just wanted to see if you’d like to come for lunch at B&B at 2pm? Rowan and Sloane will be there.

I can give you a lift. Or we could meet there if you want. You have a break then, yeah?

The dots of Lark’s reply flicker at the bottom of my screen. They stop. They start again. They stop another time and finally, her message comes through.

Okay. I’ll meet you there.

My heart claws its way up my chest, resurrected from where it seems to have fallen into my guts.

Okay.

I stare at my screen even after it goes black. Though my pulse starts to slow to a normal rhythm, the empty space between each beat still aches with a feeling I can’t quite name. A disquiet that surges in my blood as I count down the hours between now and when I’ll see her next.