46 by Lynn Ames

Author:Lynn Ames [Ames, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781936429219
Publisher: Phoenix Rising Press
Published: 2020-06-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Palmer completed her third running circuit around the base. Eighteen solitary miles, and she still hadn’t been able to outrun her jumbled emotions. She bent over and put her hands on her knees. Sweat dripped from her chin, leaving a pattern of droplets on the pavement. A slight summer breeze ruffled her hair. She shook out her arms and legs and executed a series of stretches to help her cool down. But no amount of physical exertion tamed her renegade heart.

In the intervening two months since that magical evening with Emma, Palmer had immersed herself in her work. She convinced herself that she owed it to whomever would follow her to get her professional house in order before her retirement, but the truth was, she needed the distraction.

It seemed as though every waking hour of personal time—and most nights during her dreams—Palmer’s mind, heart, and body were filled to bursting with Emma. Emma, gazing up at her under long lashes in the library. Emma’s laughter floating on the air between them on the living room sofa. Emma’s penetrating gaze memorizing her face, her words, her mannerisms. Emma’s voice, soothing the jagged places in Palmer’s soul.

Dozens of times a day, Palmer picked up her personal cell, opened an encrypted text message, and stared at the blinking cursor. Sometimes, she would compose an entire message in her head without committing any of it to the screen. Other times, she would begin to type out a message, only to delete the incomplete sentiment seconds later. She was always careful not to select a recipient—she didn’t want to accidentally send something she couldn’t retract, or that could be misinterpreted.

Misinterpreted? Who was she kidding? Her thoughts couldn’t be misinterpreted, unless one was completely oblivious. And even Palmer wasn’t that clueless. She knew what it meant—understood the import and the truth. She simply didn’t want to admit it. Not to herself and certainly not to Emma. It was inappropriate; it was impossible; it was madness.

Instead, Palmer literally ran herself into the ground. She willed herself to ignore the ache in her belly, the longing in her loins, and the way her heart rate accelerated every time she glimpsed Emma’s face on the news programs, which was, of course, nightly.

Not that she was one to confide in others—she wasn’t—but even if she had been, there wouldn’t have been a soul in whom Palmer could’ve confided. Not about this. So, she continued to battle with her burgeoning feelings in isolation.

She didn’t dare reach out to Emma in this state. Besides, it wasn’t as though Emma had tried to contact her either. Palmer wasn’t sure what to make of that. Did Emma feel as she did? Or had Palmer imagined the spark between them?

Emma’s life was complicated. Of course, it was. She was president of the United States. Beyond that, she was a widow who’d tragically lost the only partner she’d ever known three years ago. Was she still grieving for Heather? Could anyone take Heather’s place in Emma’s heart? Was there room for someone else there?

Argh.

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