“I need to see you for this conversation.”
Based on his firm tone, he wasn’t open to negotiation.
Meaning she’d have to take the initiative and put the difficult subject on the table.
She filled her lungs, steeled herself, and said the hard words. “Look, Ben. It’s okay. I understand if this isn’t working for you. The long-distance complication was always an issue, and we both knew it would be a challenge to—”
“Whoa!” His alarm came over the line loud and clear. “I’m not suggesting we end our relationship.”
She froze, her hand halfway into the cabinet to retrieve the bottle of aspirin. “You’re not?”
“No. This isn’t about that. I’m as committed to figuring out the logistics now as I was before.”
Before?
Somehow she knew that was key.
“Before what?”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about.”
She retracted her hand from the cabinet, leaving the bottle of aspirin inside, and returned to the table. “You want to come over?”
“Yes—but not yet.”
“What time did you have in mind?” She sank into her chair. It was already after nine—but hey, she could muscle through her fatigue for another hour if it meant seeing Ben.
“This is going to sound weird, but my reasoning will be clear after I explain what’s been going on.”
“Are you thinking of a midnight rendezvous?” She tried for a teasing tone, but some nuance in his inflection told her this was no joking matter.
“Close—but more like one-thirty.”
That was weird.
“You mean one-thirty in the morning?” Maybe she’d misunderstood.
“Yes. Please trust me on this. Like I said, once I explain the circumstances, you’ll understand. We could both catch a few hours of sleep between now and then. You have to be exhausted.”
“I’m more curious than tired now.”
“I’ll tell you the whole story in four hours.”
At the grim tenor of his voice, a shiver spiraled through her. “This is bad news, isn’t it?”
“I hope not.”
That wasn’t too comforting.
“Can’t you give me a tiny hint? You’re making me nervous.”
“I’m sorry.” Contrition softened his tone. “I don’t want to upset you. I’d wait until tomorrow to do this if I could, but there’s a reason we need to talk tonight—and at that late hour. In terms of a hint . . . an incident from my recent past has come back to haunt me. It has nothing to do with my feelings for you, but you need to know about it.”
“You aren’t an undercover CIA operative or something, are you?”
He exhaled. “I wish it was that simple. Can I come at one-thirty?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. And try to get some sleep in the meantime.”
They said their goodbyes, and Marci set the phone down. Rose.
Apparently she was going to need those aspirin. Her temples were beginning to throb again.
As for sleep—that was a lost cause.
Yes, she’d go to bed.
Yes, she’d try to convince her body to relax enough to let her doze off.
But with Ben’s mysterious visit mere hours away, she had about as much chance of falling asleep as his grandfather had had of winching a full pot of Dungeness crabs from the ocean depths during the spring slow season.
As far as he could tell, no one had followed him.
The Hope Harbor police officer’s report that Nicole’s car hadn’t budged from the Gull Motel for the past two hours must be sound.
But just to be safe, he killed his lights as he approached Pelican Point Road.
If anyone was following him—like that PI Nicole had referenced—they’d never notice him veering off 101 on this black, moonlit night.
It wasn’t likely she was still paying her spy now that she was on-site, though. She already had all the information she’d wanted.
Not until he rounded the second curve on the point road did Ben flip his lights back on. No one from the main drag would spot him here, deep in the wooded terrain.
Once Marci’s house came into sight, he eased back on the gas pedal, dread pooling in his belly at the thought of the conversation to come.
This could go several directions—some of them not pleasant.
He could only hope she’d listen to everything he had to say with an open mind—and believe he’d been justly exonerated from all of Nicole’s claims.
A shadow moved behind a drawn window shade as he pulled into her gravel driveway and set the brake on the truck.
She’d been watching for him.
Not surprising, given his cryptic explanation on the phone earlier. In her place, he’d be curious about such a covert meeting too.
As he approached the door, she pulled it open.
“I want you to know I don’t unlatch my locks for just anyone at this hour of the night.” Though the backlighting from inside left her face in shadows, her mood wasn’t difficult to read.
She was nervous—but trying to lighten the atmosphere.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” If it lasted.
“Come on in.” She swept a hand toward the interior as he ascended the steps to her front porch. “There’s a chill in the air, so I turned on the fireplace. I thought we could talk in the living room, over coffee.” She motioned to the two mugs on the glass-topped crab pot in front of the sofa. “It’s decaf, in case you’re worried about sleeping later.”
Decaf or regular, he doubted he’d get much shut-eye during the remainder of this night.
He followed her to the overstuffed couch, where she tucked her feet under her, picked up her mug—and gave him an expectant look.
Settling in beside her, he surveyed the room. The glowing flames in the gas fireplace created a cozy, intimate ambiance that would be romantic in other circumstances.
But romance had nothing to do with the sudden uptick in his pulse.
Clasping his hands in front of him, he watched the firelight flicker for a moment. If there was an easy way to lead into his story, it eluded him. Besides, Marci was prepped for bad news. No reason not to plunge straight in.
“We’ve talked a few times about the night we met—and you’ve apologized more than once for
