The Space Between (The Book of Phoenix) Read Online Free Page B

my screwed-up life. She stared back, waiting for my answer with genuine curiosity.
    “I’d planned to see family,” I hedged, and added, “but didn’t find what I was looking for.”
    “In Sulmona?”
    Of course this question would come up. The coincidence was too . . . coincidental.
    “I ended up in Sulmona yesterday after spending a few days on the eastern coast. It was a place to stay on my way to Rome.”
    She nodded, but a shadow flickered across her eyes, and I could tell she wanted to know more, but she didn’t ask. Which was good because I wouldn’t tell her, but I didn’t want to come off as a douchebag. Not when I might have finally won her over. Even if it was for only a few more minutes.
    “So where to now?” she asked, changing the subject for me.
    “I’m on standby for a flight to Paris. There I hope to catch a flight to Miami.”
    “Is that where you’re from?”
    “Yes,” I said. The real answer wasn’t so simple, but no need to get into details. I wanted to know more about her, but here we were talking about me. I needed to change that. “What about you?”
    “Atlanta. Home’s just outside of there.” And now I imagined her words with a sweet Southern accent. “For now anyway. My dad’s company moves him a lot, so I’ve lived all over.”
    So much for the accent.
    “And what were you doing here?” I asked.
    Her eyes drifted away for a moment, taking on a distant look.
    “Chasing a dream,” she said as her gaze returned to me. “I’d always wanted to be a dancer, since I was a kid. Life didn’t turn out as I’d hoped, though. You know how it is.”
    I grimaced. I certainly knew how it was. I’d had my own dream once, but the accident had killed it. I wasn’t cut out to be another Beethoven.
    “My great-uncle arranged for me to spend a month over here to dance with the company of a friend’s son,” she continued. “I take care of him, so he said this was the least he could do for me in return.” Her eyes glinted again, and she smiled mischievously. “Truth, though? I think he just wanted to spend some time with his lady friend.”
    “Can’t blame a guy.”
    She wrinkled her nose and laughed. “He’s eighty-three years old!”
    “All the more reason. When you only have a limited time, a guy has to make the most of it.”
    She locked her eyes on mine, and once again, they trapped me. Her head tilted, as though asking if I spoke of myself as much as her uncle.
    “How do you know how to sign?” I asked.
    “My uncle. We learned together. He said he was too old to learn a whole new language like ASL, so we learned Signed English. I was pretty relieved to see you using it. You’d have to go slow for me to follow ASL.”
    I nodded with understanding, but I didn’t get a chance to say anything else, because my phone vibrated on the table, startling the hell out of both of us.
    The airline had a seat for me on the flight to Paris.
    Was it bad I enjoyed the look of disappointment in Leni’s eyes when she saw the text?
    We both stood and gathered our things. My gate was on the way to her own, so she walked with me. I eyed the line of passengers waiting to board, and the thought of getting on that plane—of leaving the Beautiful Girl of my dreams—nearly threw me into a panic. Damn. I needed to get on the plane. Not only to get back to the States but if I didn’t break this . . . whatever it was . . . with Leni, I thought I’d be jacked up for life. She was that kind of girl, but I was not that kind of guy. She put her stuff down to sign, then looked up at me with wide, green eyes and a small smile. Ah, shit. I was already jacked up for life. How would I ever be able to forget her?
    “It was nice to meet you,” she signed. Then she held out her hand. I didn’t want a handshake. I wanted to yank her into my arms, press her body against mine, hold her, grab a fistful of those caramel curls, kiss her like she’s never been kissed before, taste her mouth and her skin .