LITMIR.BIZ

       4

      ERIN WAS A knot of nerves and anxiety as she got ready for Bo to come over. He’d said they’d talk—and she knew they had to do that, but she wanted to do more.

      Maybe.

      She wanted to do whatever she needed to do to get this going between them.

      “You’re such a romantic,” she said to herself, smirking in the mirror as she changed her shirt again, unable to decide if she should go with a bra or not.

      She’d been with the man for a year. But for her, it was like a first date. A first time.

      What had changed his mind?

      Was she crazy? Throwing herself at him because it might prompt a few memories? When she was with him, next to him, she felt certain.

      Less so right now.

      When she heard his truck in the driveway, her hands went cold. She was being ridiculous. So nervous.

      She reassured herself that Bo wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do. She knew that. He would leave this up to her. Maybe that was what was so difficult. It would be easier, in many ways, if he would just make the decisions. Take over.

      The potential of that idea created a flutter in her pulse that got her out of the bedroom and down the stairs to meet him at the door.

      She whipped it open before he even had a chance to knock.

      “Hi.” She was breathless.

      He looked so serious; it didn’t help with her nerves.

      “Hi.”

      He must have changed out of his uniform, now in a pair of jeans and a faded black T-shirt. He was carrying a box. The way he braced it in his arms made his biceps pop a bit, and Erin found herself staring.

      “Can I come in?”

      She stood back quickly, feeling foolish. “Certainly. Yes, come in. Sorry. I guess I’m surprised, still. I didn’t expect you to call.”

      He faced her as she closed the door, and suddenly she wished her house was different. More cozy and inviting. When she’d come home from the hospital, even she’d been surprised at how sparse it was. She owned fewer than a dozen pieces of furniture, and the whole house was still painted in the plain beige that it probably was when she bought it. There were only a few pictures and some department awards on the walls, and her kitchen was lightly equipped. As though she barely lived here.

      Now, the functional gray sofa in the living room looked cold and boring. Not like something you’d want to curl up on with someone.

      Redecorating—and maybe repainting—definitely needed to be done.

      “I know. You surprised me, too, last night, when we...talked. I guess I needed some time to cool down and think about...everything.”

      “Sure. I get that. What’s in the box?”

      He seemed surprised, as if he’d almost forgotten he was holding it.

      “Oh, you mentioned that you didn’t have any mementoes of our relationship here. You kept that kind of thing at my place, I guess, so people from the department wouldn’t see anything if they came by here.”

      She frowned. “Was I really that secretive about it?”

      “Can I put this down somewhere?”

      “Yes, over on the table, please.”

      “You were concerned about what people would think, and not without reason. Our department has never had any problems, and the guys all think highly of you, the brass, too, but it’s not unreasonable to assume they might have seen you differently if they found out we were together. And given our breakup, it was probably for the best that they didn’t know. You were just being smart.”

      “I guess.” But it still didn’t seem right to her. It wasn’t as if they were doing anything wrong, after all. Hadn’t she proven herself on the job well enough to not worry about that kind of thing? Apparently not. “But anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

      “No, it doesn’t. But I thought maybe...well, that we could talk about this...arrangement we discussed. And that maybe seeing these items could trigger something for you, too.”

      Erin had to fend off a stab of disappointment. What did she think was going to happen? That he was going to jump her bones and get down to it as soon as he came through the door? Did he bring the box as a way of hoping she might remember without having to have sex with her?

      She had a feeling that she wasn’t used to feeling insecure. Not normally. It didn’t sit well.

      “This is weird, isn’t it? You’re my ex, and for me, this is like a first date. Maybe it was a mistake?”

      She folded her arms, rubbing her upper arms, unsure.

      He closed the space between them, placing an arm around her shoulders.

      “It is strange. Awkward, for sure, which is why we don’t have to do anything but talk. You call the shots. You set the pace, you say stop or go, yes or no—and I’ll listen. Period. Okay?”

      Some of her uneasiness drifted away as she looked at him, and she knew this was going to be okay.

      “Yes, thanks. Do you want some coffee? I have some scrambled eggs leftover from breakfast, too, if you want them.”

      “Sure, that sounds good. I’ll help myself if you want to grab the box.”

      Erin agreed. He probably knew his way around her kitchen as well as she did, given their past. Carrying the box to the sofa, she waited for him to open the box. When he sat down beside her, the box was between their feet on the floor.

      She opened it, unsure what to expect. On top were several pictures in cheap but nice frames. She took them out and saw her and Bo, in various settings, and a few of them each alone.

      “Wow,” she said, swallowing hard as she went through them.

      It was like looking at someone else, somebody else’s pictures. Her heart clogged her throat at one of them on a beach, pressed up close, face-to-face.

      Bo looked at her as if she was his world. She looked at him as if she wanted to be.

      “Who took this?”

      “I did. Auto-timer. I set it, and then run back to get in the shot before the camera goes off. It was always one of my favorites. Up at Lake Ontario. There’s a nature center there with a private beach, and we’d go there now and then. Lots of tall rocks and places to prop the camera.”

      He reported the details as though they were just... details. Finishing his eggs, he set his plate aside and grabbed his coffee.

      “That one,” he said as he pointed to the one in her other hand, “was after a fire at a school. When I came around the corner of the truck and saw you there, standing alone, I clicked the picture with my phone. It struck me...how beautiful you looked right then.”

      She studied the photo—she was standing in a background of

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