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Page 68 of The Perfect Deception

He sighed. “Can we talk about this later?”

She nod­ded. “Come over to­mor­row and we’ll watch a movie at my place. I’ve got the per­fect one.”

The next evening when Adam en­tered her apart­ment, she held up a DVD. “I just came across this again and it’s amaz­ing.”

“Mr. Smith Goes to Wash­ing­ton?” Adam frowned as he read the back cover.

“Have you seen it?”

He shook his head.

“It’s about a naïve politi­cian bat­tling cor­rup­tion. It’s great.”

A strange look crossed his face. “Sure, if this is what you want to watch.”

She ran her hand up and down his arm. Be­neath the cot­ton shirt, ten­sion hard­ened his mus­cles. “I thought you’d en­joy this, but if not…”

“No, it’s fine. Sit with me.”

She put the movie in and sat next to Adam. He put his arm around her shoul­ders and drew her close to him, so she was lean­ing against his chest. His fin­gers played in her hair.

“I like what you did with this,” he said.

She’d had about two inches chopped off, and the rest of it shaped. She smiled and turned her face into his hand, kiss­ing his palm. “I’m glad.” Against her back, she could feel him ex­hale, as if he’d been hold­ing his breath. Some­thing was both­er­ing him, but she had no idea what. His list of se­crets was get­ting longer and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could wait. Maybe if she could re­lax him with the movie, they could talk.

It didn’t work.

Dina wasn’t sure if it was the spe­cific movie, al­though his at­ten­tion and fo­cus in­di­cated he liked it. Maybe it was the time of day, al­though a Sat­ur­day night didn’t usu­ally bother him. Per­haps it was her, yet he hadn’t once moved or sug­gested she sit fur­ther way. What­ever the rea­son, he re­mained as tense as when he ar­rived.

Watch­ing the movie hadn’t achieved her goal.

She wished she knew some ob­scure fact about keep­ing se­crets from your girl­friend. Maybe that would help break the ice. Be­cause he’d walled him­self off from her and it was start­ing to make her ner­vous.

“Good movie,” he said, stretch­ing.

“I love Jimmy Stew­art. My grand­mother used to watch his movies all the time and I re­mem­ber sit­ting with her on Sat­ur­day af­ter­noons. Did you know that the word ‘Phil­a­del­phia’ was mis­spelled on his Os­car?”

Adam laughed. “I’ll bet you were adorable as a child.”

She shook her head. “No, I had these huge glasses, I asked tons of ques­tions and drove ev­ery­one crazy. Ex­cept her. She would an­swer any­thing I asked.”

“Is she still alive?”

Dina shook her head. “No, she died a few years ago. What about your grand­par­ents?”

“They died be­fore I was born, al­though I was named af­ter my mother’s fa­ther.”

“Did your mother ever talk to you about him?”

He leaned back and took her hand. “Not that I can re­mem­ber. There wasn’t a lot of con­ver­sa­tion in my house.”

That ex­plained a lot. Maybe he just didn’t know how to open up.

“That’s a shame. Talk­ing keeps the bad things from fes­ter­ing and cre­at­ing more stress.”

“I se­ri­ously doubt that.” He’d pulled away from her and there was a wari­ness about his face.

She wanted to draw him close and re­as­sure him that what­ever was both­er­ing him would be eas­ier shared, but she didn’t want to spook him.




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