Witness Protection Widow. Debra Webb

she pointed out as she reached for a second slice, “we were engaged—informally.”

      He went still, startled that his heart didn’t do the same. He hadn’t expected her to bring that up under the circumstances. “Technically,” he repeated, “I suppose you’re right.”

      “How long were you in Seattle?”

      “Until last year.” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’m sorry about your father.”

      “It was a tough time.”

      “Yeah, I’m sure it was.” He had come so close to attending the funeral, but he had wondered if he would be welcome, so he hadn’t.

      He bit into his pizza to prevent asking if that was why she’d ran into the arms of a criminal. Had she wanted someone to take care of her? A sugar daddy or whatever? Fury lit inside him. He forced the thoughts away. It didn’t matter that they had spent months intensely focused on each other, practically inseparable. That had been a long time ago. Whatever they had then was long gone by the time she married Armone. All this emotion was unnecessary. Pointless. Frustrating as hell, actually.

      “What about your parents?” She dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “Your sister?”

      “The parents are doing great. Talking about buying a winter home in Florida. Is that cliché or what?” He managed a smile, hoped to lighten the situation.

      She looked completely at ease. Calm. Maybe he was the only one having trouble.

      Her lips lifted into a small smile. “A little.”

      “My sister is married with three kids.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how she does it.”

      “She’s lucky.”

      “You have kids?” He knew the answer, but he didn’t know the reason.

      “No. He didn’t want children. He had two with his first wife.” She stared at the pizza box for a moment. “Looking back, I was very fortunate he didn’t.”

      For now, he guided the conversation away from the bastard she’d married. He asked another question to which he already knew the answer. “You were determined to finish school. Did you manage?”

      “I did. With taking care of my father it took forever, but I finally got it done.”

      “That’s great.”

      More of that suffocating silence. He stared at the pizza, suddenly having no appetite.

      “Your career is going well?” she asked.

      “It is. The work is challenging and fulfilling.”

      She stood. “Thank you for the pizza.”

      He watched as she carried her napkin and cola can to the trash. She stood at the sink and stared out the window.

      The urge to demand how she could have married a man like Harrison Armone burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back.

      “I think maybe they should send someone else.”

      Her words surprised him. Flustered him. He stood, the legs of his chair scraping across the wood floor. “Why? I see no reason we can’t put the past behind us.”

      She turned to face him but stayed right where she was, her fingers gripping the edge of the countertop as if she feared gravity would fail her. “If he finds me, he will kill me. If you’re in the way, he’ll kill you, too.”