Page 40 of Book Boyfriends
“That I hurt your feelings on our bad date. That I insulted your writing and implied your life is a fairy tale. I didn’t take thetime to get to know you… I’d like to get to know you, if it’s not too late.”
I pull back, taking both him and his words in. The earnest plea in his voice extinguishes the lone remaining embers of frustration with this man. Davis hurt my feelings, but he’s adult enough to own that. To listen to me. To apologize. He doesn’t offer excuses. He doesn’t twist this into being my fault.
It's so different from Will.Georgia, you pushed me to make a commitment when I wasn’t ready yet.Will’s words from the day he’d picked up the last of his things from my place prick inside me. It would take another six months to learn the truth, that it wasn’t my fault. But Will had no problem with me taking onhisactions as my sins.
“It’s not too late,” I say, meeting his gaze.
“Okay.” A hopeful smile curls his lips. “How about a grilled cheese? I think we’ve both earned one after the day we’ve had. The GF Finder App ranks Fisher’s Landing as the number two gluten free grilled cheese in the US.”
“You know about GF Finder?” I gape.
It’s not a well-known App outside of the gluten free community. It’s like Yelp, but focused on rating the safety of and menu offerings for gluten free individuals like me. The App has both user-generated ratings and those by dieticians. Up until it came out around five years ago, a lot of my knowledge about how GF-friendly places truly were came from what limited info was often available on restaurants’ websites. Even if a place lists things as gluten free, it still may not be safe based on how food is prepared and, even, how it’s stored.
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I designed it.”
“Youdesigned it!”
“All your questions will be answered—” he tips his head toward the brewery’s front door “—inside over grilled cheese and a basket of fries withtwosides of ketchup.” He winks.
Clusters of customers occupy the various high and low top tables throughout the brewery. It’s busier than I thought it would be on a Sunday night, but several teams linger after the restaurant’s Trivia Night Showdown. With a hand nestled against my lower back, Davis escorts me toward two empty stools at the bar. I try to ignore the way my body sinks into the warmth of his palm. Try, but fail miserably.
Up until thirty minutes ago, he was Davis the ass. Now he’s Davis something else entirely. Not quite Kenny, Doc and Estelle’s thoughtful grandson, but something in-between the sexy blind date that sparked an interest in me before he quelled it with his unintentional jerkery and the too-good-to-be-true grandson.
“Why Kenny?” I ask, picking up the iced tea I’d ordered.
“It’s short for Mackenzie.” He emphasizes the ken in Mackenzie. “Mac is the typical nickname for Mackenzie, and Pop said that I was too special to go with something so mundane. Plus, he had a best friend in school named Kenny whom he said I reminded him of. I was pretty proud to wear the nickname, even now. As you know,Peach, getting a nickname from Pop is the gold star of approval.” He bumps my shoulder with his.
“Why would you need approval from your grandfather?”
“Because at the time he gave me the nickname, I wasn’t his grandson… At least not yet.” He taps his fingers against his glass of iced tea.
“What does that mean?” I spin on the stool, my knees pressing into his right thigh.
“Deanna and Mimi didn’t become my foster parents until I was ten.”
“You were in foster care?”
“Yeah.” He turns, his large legs bracketing mine, our gazes tethering.
The action linked us together. Despite the murmured conversations and quiet hum of music, the intimacy of this moment isolates us.
“I was in-and-out of different homes since I was seven,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, but something sad darkens his expression.
I reach out, placing my hand on his. “You don’t have to tell me about it if?—”
“I want to.” He squeezes my hand. “Both my parents struggled with drugs. Dad still does—” his forehead wrinkles “—at least I think he does. I went no-contact with him ten years ago. I just couldn’t continue to leave myself open to him and his false promises.”
An ache twinges in my throat. Nolan Lane isn’t fatherly, but I can’t imagine him being out of my life. He’ll never be the type of dad I imagine Rem wants to be, or that I know Doc is from the stories Estelle shares, but he’s there in different ways. I also have my mom, always have.
“What about your mom?” I skate my thumb against his hand, and the gray clouds in his eyes dissolve with each tender stroke.
“She died of an overdose when I was seven. Hence, foster care.” He heaves a long breath. “Dad couldn’t deal and fell into his habit hard. He got arrested buying meth and the officers found me in the car waiting for him outside his dealer’s apartment. A string of arrests and rehab stints left me bouncing between my dad and foster homes.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you all that. I’m talking too much about my sad history…” His stare drops to his lap, where my fingers are threaded with his.
“I asked.” I drag his attention back to me with a gentle squeeze of his hand. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay… But I do want to know.”
