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I know ... I still don't like what we are doing to him ... Yes I know this is part of my job ... Okay, I'll tell him tonight ... We leave Sunday night and get back Thursday evening ... I still don't like this ... Yes, you too." I heard Laura hang up the phone carefully. Laura came into the living room from the kitchen and sat in the chair next to the couch. I heard a sigh then she ran to the bedroom and I heard her sobbing.What the hell is going on? Why is she crying? This makes no sense to me. I'm the one who's hurt; I should be the one crying, not her. Is she having second thoughts? Could it be that simple? What was that about her job or something? I almost went in to comfort her, but I stopped myself. Do I really want to do this or not? Hell, I still love her; I have to go."Honey, what's wrong?" You're hurt and I have to go most of next week to a conference up in Dallas. I have to leave Sunday and I won't be back until sometime late Thursday evening. I'm going to miss you like. His hair was still wet and standing on end, and he hadn’t bothered to shave, and his stubble was alarmingly sexy. She stepped closer and breathed in his scent, and she was sure her knees buckled. She didn’t know a smell could have this effect on a person. He pushed the last of the toast in his mouth and brushed the crumbs off his chest. He stood looking at Desiree as if he wanted to say something but the sound of his cell phone chirping interrupted him. He looked at the display, and with a heavy sigh he answered the phone and walked into the living room. Left standing in the kitchen, Desiree wasn’t sure what to do. She grabbed a piece of bread out of the bag, balled it up and popped it into her mouth. She heard him say goodbye and hang up the phone. ‘So…’ she said as she entered the living room. ‘I don’t have my truck — ‘ ‘So you wanna go home?’ he asked without looking up from the box he was rifling through. ‘I didn’t say that, I just wanna know what’s on the agenda for today.’ .
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