Page 35 of Almost Home
“Coming right up,” the bartender said, lifting a pint glass to the tap at a perfect angle. He’d been doing this awhile—the fluidity in his movements said he’d likely done it for years. At least he knew how to pour a beer.
“Sorry I’m a minute late,” I said, unable to keep my eyes from gobbling up the sight of her. The dress, the hair, and that face I had loved—yes, loved. She was everything.
“You were right on time. I was just…” She chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear again. “I was nervous, so I ended up getting here a little early.”
My heart squeezed. God, she was so open and soft. So damned beautiful through and through. “Don’t be nervous.”
“Can’t help it.”
I angled closer to her, but not so much that I was crowding her. I didn’t want her nervous. “It’s just me.”
She inhaled, her eyes finding mine. “I know.”
And maybe I should’ve taken that as a bad thing, or a good thing, but all I could tell was that I needed to do my part to make things right between us. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”
“It’s okay.”
Too quick. Her response came too quick, and though I didn’t think she’d tried to lie to me, she had. “It isn’t. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It was a knee-jerk response. I have no excuse except to say I’m sorry. I’m still working on being open, and it’s hard. Being back here. Even with you.”
She tucked her lips between her teeth and nodded.
The tightness in her understanding smile made me say, “But I want to.”
“What?”
“I want to get to know you. I want to be open with you.”
Her brows rose and she bit her bottom lip, which drew my attention for a half second before I refocused on her eyes.
“You do?”
The sheer disbelief and sweetness of her question cut right through any hope I had of maintaining my usual mask. And because it felt right, I let it. My face broke into a smile, and I wanted to pull her to me and hug her more than I might’ve wanted anything else in my whole life.
“Don’t be so shocked,” I said, trying to maintain some level of calm and distance.
She turned back to her wine on the bar and raised the glass to her mouth in a motion so slow, it would’ve been comical if it didn’t indicate just how surprised my comment had made her. That didn’t bode well for what she thought of me, if my desire to let her know me came as such a revelation.
Though why wouldn’t it? I couldn’t honestly say I’d been anything but professional with her beyond the moment with the mug and perhaps the fact that my mom commandeered her to go to the bookstore.
As was my way, I stayed quiet, hoping she’d come to me and equally dreading her doing just that. This tactic worked with all manner of people, and since it happened to be my default setting, I used it more often than not. Granted, I didn’t dread anyone else doing what I wanted. I did with her because if she came to me, I knew by the way everything in me responded to her that I wouldn’t have the strength to push her away.
After a minute, she turned to me.
“Why?”
Fair question, and I’d wondered the same. What in me wanted her to know me after she’d opted out? “I’m not sure.”
Her teeth returned to that full bottom lip as her eyes flickered back and forth between mine. “Okay.”
My brows jumped in response, a reflection of the hammering heart in my chest. “Okay?”
She nodded.
I waited.
When she didn’t break eye contact or speak or give me any hints about what that meant, I broke. “What does that mean?”
A smile flashed, but she tucked it away like she’d made herself promise not to show me. That neanderthal in me that wanted everything of Sarah’s to be mine reared its ugly head, but I shut it down with an elbow to the face.
