CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 37

NEENA

When I got home from work, my husband was standing on the balcony, his cast arm pale and scrawny. He was staring down at the rudimentary balcony rail that William had constructed for us. The new ironwork would take months to arrive, but I had to say that I liked the temporary solution. I had really enjoyed the view of him putting it together, his shirt slightly sticking to his build as he had lifted boards and hammered things into place.

I opened the french door and joined him on the balcony. “What are you doing?”

Matt didn’t turn, his attention still on the railing post. “Why didn’t you tell me that the railing was missing screws?”

“What?”

“When I fell, someone had removed almost all the screws from this post. It’s why the railing gave way so easily.”

“Someone removed all the screws? What are you talking about? That railing has always been a little wobbly.”

“Yeah, a little.” He turned to me, and I flinched at the suspicious look on his face. “But the day I fell, it gave way almost immediately.”

“So it loosened up. Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Cat told you that screws were missing from the post. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“She didn’t tell me that,” I said, straightening up with indignation.

“So, you didn’t tell her to throw away the broken railings?”

I hesitated. “I don’t remember what I told her, but I know she didn’t mention missing screws—are you listening to yourself? Missing screws, someone poisoning Cat?” I gave a hard laugh. “You’re paranoid.”

“I’m not sure I am.” He moved past me and into the house, his shoulder knocking against me in the process.

A stab of fear hit me, one I hadn’t felt in years. “Matt.” I hurried after him. “Matt. Where are you going?”

“To the office. I need to check on some things.” He jogged down the winding staircase, his boots loud on the stairs.

“Wait.” I caught him just before the back door and wrapped my arms around him. “Matt.” I pulled him around to face me and pressed my body against his, my hands stealing around his neck, my mouth sweet and eager on his lips. He was slow to respond, but he softened, his hands finding my waist, his mouth responding to my kiss. I considered initiating sex but discarded the idea, my energy not up for the laborious task. Instead, I curled into his chest. “I love you,” I whispered.

He returned the sentiment gruffly, his hand sweeping over the back of my head, and I felt, in the sigh of his embrace, the buying of a little more time. But how much? I squeezed him tightly and recalculated things in my mind.