“I’m beginning to,” she said.
He ran his fingers through his hair, standing it straight on end. “Dammit, you’re nice, Molly.”
“Tell me about this sunset.”
He looked mildly embarrassed. She grinned at his hair, though he was now smoothing it back down. He hadn’t shaved yet. He looked tough and hard and she saw him in that moment with Emma on his lap, holding her against his chest, his big hands stroking her back, her face against his shoulder. He was wearing slacks and a T-shirt, his feet bare. She had intruded. He was going to leave.
It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. He had his own life. Hers and Emma’s had intersected his briefly and violently. It was time.
He was going to leave.
It wasn’t what she wanted, but she wasn’t going to try to change it. He said quietly, “I’ll never forget this one evening I was at the Cliffs of Moher. The air was crisp and dry and the sky perfectly clear. No Irish rain that day. I sat there and watched that red ball of sun slowly sink into the Atlantic. You almost expected the water to hiss and boil when the sun sank into it. People around me were talking and laughing and joking around, until that precise moment. Then there was a hush and everyone was silent and still. Just staring at that red ball sinking under the horizon.” He shook his head, bemused at the memory. “I’ll never forget that sight as long as I live.” He paused a moment, then looked at her. “I remember the next day it rained so hard it was like payback time for that incredible sunset. You know, Molly, I was just thinking that maybe you’d like it as well, both you and Emma. Not the rain, although that’s beautiful too, no, the sunsets.”
“Emma and I? Go to Ireland?”
“Yes. With me. I don’t want to leave you.”
The morning light was dim and gray. Her expression wasn’t clear to him, as she kept her head down. After a very long moment, she raised her head and looked across the room at him. She said, smiling, “Yes, I’d like that. I’ll bet Emma would too.”
He felt a shock of pleasure. The strength of it surprised him. He smiled back at her. “Savich and Sherlock are going to Paris. They’re leaving from O’Hare this morning.”
“They’re very good people.”
“Do you think we could go to Ireland soon? We could all just get away for a while. I think it would be good for Emma.”
“I don’t have our passports. They’re at the house in Denver.”
“Mine’s in San Francisco. We could pick them up and meet in New York. Or back here in Chicago. Or best yet, I could go with you and Emma to Denver and then all of us could go on to San Francisco. How about that?”
She started laughing, her hands splayed in front of her. “I didn’t know you a month ago.”
“No, you didn’t. On the other hand, we’ve probably been through more in the past weeks than most people have in a decade, or at all, for that matter.”
“You really think my hair is the color of that sunset?”
He gave her a slow smile. “Yeah, that’s what I think.”
“Is your back really all right?”
“Yes. Your arm?”
“It still throbs sometimes, but it’s not too bad. These stitches aren’t the kind they have to take out. They’ll resorb by themselves, Dr. Otterly said. I couldn’t believe you went to the gym with Savich, though. You could have hurt yourself more.”
“My back has barely blistered. Besides, I was careful. Savich taped me up pretty well so I wouldn’t stress anything, and so I could swim.” Then he grinned at her. “Yeah, I was stupid.”
She laughed at him, shaking her head. “I didn’t say that.”
He just smiled at her. “I’m worried about Emma. Is she asleep?”
“I hope so. She wakes up a lot. Three times this last night. Still the same dreams. And she dreams about the car exploding.”
“I suppose we need to ask Dr. Loo about taking Emma to Ireland this soon.”