Secret Passions by Jill Sanders

throat.
    Finally, when she felt like she had her breathing and voice under control, she said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
     
    She looked over at him and for a second, she thought he was mad. Then he burst out laughing and she followed.
     
    “I guess when you look at it from a different point of view, it really is shocking and funny. You know, when I walked in on them, I actually thought she was giving me a ménage à trois f or my birthday.” Upon her blank look he laughed even more. “When two girls please one man.”
     
    “Oh! Oh, no!” She looked a little shocked then held her sides. “That’s terrible.”
     
    “Then why are you still laughing?” He chuckled.
     
    “Because, I don’t know. Because you are.” She smiled across at him and reached for his hand. “Well, I can promise you this, I will never leave you for another woman, or man for that matter.”
     
    His eyes dropped and she could tell she’d said too much, exposed too much of her thoughts. Pulling her hand away, she took another sip of her coffee as she looked out the window, only to come up short and spit her coffee out again, gasping for breath as she stared across the street, right into her father’s eyes.

    For the second time in the last few minutes, Mitchell moved over and smacked Sandi’s back, trying to get her to breathe. This time, he knew it was nothing he said or did that had caused it.
     
    Finally, when she could breathe, she pointed to the window. “My father.” Mitchell was up in a flash, he scanned the crowd on the street and didn’t see anyone that resembled the image of her father he’d memorized.
     
    “ I don’t see him.” He started to pull her up, noticing her face was even redder than before.
     
    “He was there. Next to the sign,” she said between coughs, pointed out the window again. He scanned the crowd a second time. Taking his wallet out, he tossed down a few bills, not caring if he had overpaid.
     
    “Come on, we’re leaving.” He started pulling her out the door.
     
    “Wait. Mitchell.” She pulled on his arm until he stopped. “Where are we going?”
     
    “Home.” He started walking again. She pulled him to a stop just outside the cafe.
     
    “No, I’m not going to run and hide every time I think I see my father.”
     
    “You either saw him or you didn’t.”
     
    “I did, at least...I think I did. My eyes were teary from all the coughing and laughing.” She bit her bottom lip. “I could have been mistaken.”
     
    He thought about it. “Well, we’d better be safe rather than sorry. We’ll head back and order in.”
     
    “No, Mitch. Please. If it was my father, then maybe we can get a look at him if he follows us to the market. We wouldn’t want to lead him back to your place.”
     
    Why hadn’t he thought about that first? When she’d said she’d seen her father, his first instincts were to rush her to safety. Protecting her was his main goal now, and he’d do anything at this point to ensure that she remain safe.
     
    “You’re right.” Taking her hand, he started walking towards the market slowly. “No, don’t. Keep looking forward,” he told her when she moved to look over her shoulder. “Just keep walking. Talk to me. Did you always want to be an artist?”
     
    He could feel the tension in her body, next to his. Squeezing her hand lightly to reassure her, he started swinging their hands playfully. She smiled a little and started talking about when she first knew she wanted to be an artist. He found the story interesting, but was paying more attention to the people around him, looking through his dark sunglasses at every movement, every face. When they finished the short walk to the market, he grabbed one of the small handheld baskets and handed it to her. Then they walked from booth to booth, gathering basic groceries. His mind was so focused on everything else that he accidentally almost bought too many