Read Online The Forgiving Hour by Robin Lee Hatcher - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robin Lee Hatcher
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piercing the sky, an ache shot through her heart. She was filled with an overwhelming desire to fall to her knees and wail in lamentation, as for the dead. Because if something wasn’t already dead, it was surely dying. If not her marriage, then her dreams of what a marriage should be.
No. Please, no. Don’t let it be true. Oh, please, don’t let this happen to me. To us. I’d rather die.
NINE
“How about stopping for pizza?” Dave asked as they neared Boise’s city limits. “I’m starved.”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
Sara was glad he wasn’t taking her straight home. She was happier when with him, her fears silenced, at least momentarily. But she knew that once she was back in her apartment and was alone with too much time to think her doubts would resurface. She wasn’t ready to end what had turned out to be a perfectly delightful afternoon.
“I know a little hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor that makes the best deep-dish pizzas you’ve ever tasted. Great brew too.” He downshifted as he approached a stop sign, then flipped on his turn signal. “That okay with you?”
“Whatever you want to do is fine.”
“That’s what I like about you, Sara. You know how to make a man feel good about himself. No pressure. No worries. No strings attached.”
She wished those words sounded more like a compliment than they did.
At the parlor, Dave ordered a large, thick-crust pepperoni and sausage pizza, no olives, and a pitcher of whatever was on tap, as long as it wasn’t light. Then he ushered Sara to a booth in the back corner of the parlor. He filled a frosted mug with beer and slid it across the table.
A spark of rebellion left a metallic taste in her mouth. I’d rather have orange soda with pizza. And I hate pepperoni.
Why didn’t she tell him so? She’d never been afraid to speak her mind to guys before. She’d always been frank with her brothers and boyfriends. So why was she afraid to speak up to Dave?
Because, she answered herself with brutal honesty, she was unsure how he felt about her. And if he didn’t love her, then …
“Why so serious, babe?” He took hold of her hand across the table and gave it a squeeze.
She couldn’t tell him, so she made up something. “I was thinking about Portland.”
“We’ll have a good time.”
Warmth wrapped around each of his words, tugging at her heart, giving her hope.
Softly, she asked, “Do you really think you want to move there?” Will you want me with you then too? Will you ask me to marry you?
“I’ll just have to wait and see.” He shrugged. “Depends on the work I find.”
“It’s so gray and rainy near the coast.”
“Yeah, but not as cold in the winter as it is here. Hardly ever snows.”
“No, I guess not.”
He leaned toward her. His eyes were more ebony than blue in the dim light of the parlor. The corners of his mouth curved infinitesimally. “Would you miss me if I moved away?”
“You know I would.” Her reply was almost inaudible.
But he heard it. And seemed pleased by it.
She swallowed, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in her stomach.
He appeared on the verge of saying something. Perhaps he was ready to tell her he loved her. Maybe he was ready to ask that all-important question.
The address system crackled and sputtered, then a loud voice blared, “Number forty-eight, your pizza’s ready. Number forty-eight.”
“I think that’s us.” Dave glanced at the ticket stub on the table. “Yeah, it is. Sit tight and I’ll get it.”
Just inside the entrance of their favorite pizza parlor was a room filled with video arcade games.
“Can I have some quarters, Mom?” Mike asked as they stepped from daylight into the shadowy restaurant.
“Sure.” Claire plucked the coins from a zippered pouch on the side of her purse. “You want the usual?” She placed the quarters in the palm of his outstretched hand.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll come get you when our order’s out.”
“Okay.”
She watched as
No. Please, no. Don’t let it be true. Oh, please, don’t let this happen to me. To us. I’d rather die.
NINE
“How about stopping for pizza?” Dave asked as they neared Boise’s city limits. “I’m starved.”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
Sara was glad he wasn’t taking her straight home. She was happier when with him, her fears silenced, at least momentarily. But she knew that once she was back in her apartment and was alone with too much time to think her doubts would resurface. She wasn’t ready to end what had turned out to be a perfectly delightful afternoon.
“I know a little hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor that makes the best deep-dish pizzas you’ve ever tasted. Great brew too.” He downshifted as he approached a stop sign, then flipped on his turn signal. “That okay with you?”
“Whatever you want to do is fine.”
“That’s what I like about you, Sara. You know how to make a man feel good about himself. No pressure. No worries. No strings attached.”
She wished those words sounded more like a compliment than they did.
At the parlor, Dave ordered a large, thick-crust pepperoni and sausage pizza, no olives, and a pitcher of whatever was on tap, as long as it wasn’t light. Then he ushered Sara to a booth in the back corner of the parlor. He filled a frosted mug with beer and slid it across the table.
A spark of rebellion left a metallic taste in her mouth. I’d rather have orange soda with pizza. And I hate pepperoni.
Why didn’t she tell him so? She’d never been afraid to speak her mind to guys before. She’d always been frank with her brothers and boyfriends. So why was she afraid to speak up to Dave?
Because, she answered herself with brutal honesty, she was unsure how he felt about her. And if he didn’t love her, then …
“Why so serious, babe?” He took hold of her hand across the table and gave it a squeeze.
She couldn’t tell him, so she made up something. “I was thinking about Portland.”
“We’ll have a good time.”
Warmth wrapped around each of his words, tugging at her heart, giving her hope.
Softly, she asked, “Do you really think you want to move there?” Will you want me with you then too? Will you ask me to marry you?
“I’ll just have to wait and see.” He shrugged. “Depends on the work I find.”
“It’s so gray and rainy near the coast.”
“Yeah, but not as cold in the winter as it is here. Hardly ever snows.”
“No, I guess not.”
He leaned toward her. His eyes were more ebony than blue in the dim light of the parlor. The corners of his mouth curved infinitesimally. “Would you miss me if I moved away?”
“You know I would.” Her reply was almost inaudible.
But he heard it. And seemed pleased by it.
She swallowed, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in her stomach.
He appeared on the verge of saying something. Perhaps he was ready to tell her he loved her. Maybe he was ready to ask that all-important question.
The address system crackled and sputtered, then a loud voice blared, “Number forty-eight, your pizza’s ready. Number forty-eight.”
“I think that’s us.” Dave glanced at the ticket stub on the table. “Yeah, it is. Sit tight and I’ll get it.”
Just inside the entrance of their favorite pizza parlor was a room filled with video arcade games.
“Can I have some quarters, Mom?” Mike asked as they stepped from daylight into the shadowy restaurant.
“Sure.” Claire plucked the coins from a zippered pouch on the side of her purse. “You want the usual?” She placed the quarters in the palm of his outstretched hand.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll come get you when our order’s out.”
“Okay.”
She watched as
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