The End of You: A Single Lady Spy Series Novella (The Single Lady Spy Series Book 3) by Tara Brown
Authors: Tara Brown
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Chapter One
The
dark of the night made it impossible to see what he was thinking. Coop paced,
passing by the window and casting shadows about the room. I kept my breathing
even and relaxed so he wouldn't know I saw him there. I could sense the end of
us nearing. I could sense his thoughts straying to other women, younger women.
I could feel every insecurity my dead husband lovingly bestowed upon me,
lingering in the air with the man who had never given me a reason to doubt him.
But
I did.
Not
like a college girl doubts the feelings and affections of every boy she smiles
at, but the way a woman doubts the man she loves because deep down she knows
she doesn't love him as much as she should. It’s a dark place where she admits
this to herself, deep in the recesses of her soul where she doesn't want to
look. But experience and wisdom have taught her to know better.
Girls
blame the guy, believing themselves in the right and screaming of the
injustice. Women silently blame him and push away the obvious fact that it’s
their own shortcoming.
There,
in the dark room with the handsome young man pacing back and forth like a caged
cat, I knew which one of us was to blame for the moment we were each wordlessly
having.
The
lights of the airport in Denver shone through the blackout curtains we didn't
close all the way. They provided the dim light I needed to see the doubt on his
face. The doubt I required to justify my desire to end things.
We
had been playing at our secret agent—spy—lover—instant family
roles long enough for all the dust to be settled. The dust unfortunately had
been filtering out the important things, blocking them out so we might be fooled
by the lack of clarity. But there in the dark room I believed we both saw it
for what it was. I was a single woman, desperate to fill the void my husband’s
many betrayals had created. I was a single mom, even more desperate to not to
be parenting in the world alone. And lastly, I was a broken woman struggling
with the possibility I had caused my husband to stray because there was nothing
desirable about me.
Coop
healed all those places. He loved my kids. He made me feel beautiful. He made
us all feel safe. Something we hadn’t felt in a long time. We weren’t alone
with him, none of us. He slipped into the holes, like plaster filling them up
and patching the cracks.
And
the worst part of it all was that I had let him.
I
had been selfish and greedy enough in my desire to be normal again that I
forgot the one sacred rule about relationships. That one special thing that will
always find a way—love.
He
continued to pace, pausing in the window. His stomach was flexed, making me
wish I could push it all away—all the doubts and worries about us and the
lack of love I feared I felt for him. The lust could be enough if I let it.
I
closed my eyes, letting myself believe that was a better option. Lust could
turn to love. I could let it.
Somehow
I slept with that as a blanket tucking me in and telling me to sleep, like my
mother had when I was a girl.
I
woke to Coop staring at me from the chair across the room. He was dressed and
ready to catch our flight to England. I rubbed my eyes, praying the stone-cold
expression upon his beautiful face was caused by the sleep in my eyes. But when
I blinked it was still there, the awkward stillness in him from the night
before with the pacing.
“I
think you should go home.” Finally, he had spoken the words I could tell he was
thinking, only they weren’t what I expected.
I
cocked an eyebrow, confused and too tired to actually fight about whether we
should both be on a mission with the kids at home with my mother and Fitz.
He
lifted a hand, holding off the argument I was brewing in my still foggy brain.
“I think you should go home and try to keep some sense of normalcy. Luce and
Jack are coming. We are meeting Servario in Dubai. I think you should let us
take care of this.” Luce and Jack were our partners, people
The
dark of the night made it impossible to see what he was thinking. Coop paced,
passing by the window and casting shadows about the room. I kept my breathing
even and relaxed so he wouldn't know I saw him there. I could sense the end of
us nearing. I could sense his thoughts straying to other women, younger women.
I could feel every insecurity my dead husband lovingly bestowed upon me,
lingering in the air with the man who had never given me a reason to doubt him.
But
I did.
Not
like a college girl doubts the feelings and affections of every boy she smiles
at, but the way a woman doubts the man she loves because deep down she knows
she doesn't love him as much as she should. It’s a dark place where she admits
this to herself, deep in the recesses of her soul where she doesn't want to
look. But experience and wisdom have taught her to know better.
Girls
blame the guy, believing themselves in the right and screaming of the
injustice. Women silently blame him and push away the obvious fact that it’s
their own shortcoming.
There,
in the dark room with the handsome young man pacing back and forth like a caged
cat, I knew which one of us was to blame for the moment we were each wordlessly
having.
The
lights of the airport in Denver shone through the blackout curtains we didn't
close all the way. They provided the dim light I needed to see the doubt on his
face. The doubt I required to justify my desire to end things.
We
had been playing at our secret agent—spy—lover—instant family
roles long enough for all the dust to be settled. The dust unfortunately had
been filtering out the important things, blocking them out so we might be fooled
by the lack of clarity. But there in the dark room I believed we both saw it
for what it was. I was a single woman, desperate to fill the void my husband’s
many betrayals had created. I was a single mom, even more desperate to not to
be parenting in the world alone. And lastly, I was a broken woman struggling
with the possibility I had caused my husband to stray because there was nothing
desirable about me.
Coop
healed all those places. He loved my kids. He made me feel beautiful. He made
us all feel safe. Something we hadn’t felt in a long time. We weren’t alone
with him, none of us. He slipped into the holes, like plaster filling them up
and patching the cracks.
And
the worst part of it all was that I had let him.
I
had been selfish and greedy enough in my desire to be normal again that I
forgot the one sacred rule about relationships. That one special thing that will
always find a way—love.
He
continued to pace, pausing in the window. His stomach was flexed, making me
wish I could push it all away—all the doubts and worries about us and the
lack of love I feared I felt for him. The lust could be enough if I let it.
I
closed my eyes, letting myself believe that was a better option. Lust could
turn to love. I could let it.
Somehow
I slept with that as a blanket tucking me in and telling me to sleep, like my
mother had when I was a girl.
I
woke to Coop staring at me from the chair across the room. He was dressed and
ready to catch our flight to England. I rubbed my eyes, praying the stone-cold
expression upon his beautiful face was caused by the sleep in my eyes. But when
I blinked it was still there, the awkward stillness in him from the night
before with the pacing.
“I
think you should go home.” Finally, he had spoken the words I could tell he was
thinking, only they weren’t what I expected.
I
cocked an eyebrow, confused and too tired to actually fight about whether we
should both be on a mission with the kids at home with my mother and Fitz.
He
lifted a hand, holding off the argument I was brewing in my still foggy brain.
“I think you should go home and try to keep some sense of normalcy. Luce and
Jack are coming. We are meeting Servario in Dubai. I think you should let us
take care of this.” Luce and Jack were our partners, people
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