Page 114 of Ice Darling
“What do you think?” she asks, flapping her hands in the long sleeves and then tugging at her shorts. “Don’t worry. I wore over-alls over these shorts all day, so they should be fine to sit on your couch.”
I give my attention to the television instead of the stunning creature in my sweatshirt. “I’m on episode ten already.”
“That’s fine.” Cordelia sits closer to me than I expected. She’s not right up against me, but she’s also not on the opposite end of the couch either. “Who are we rooting for?”
My throat dry, I turn up the volume without answering. On the screen, a baker with sweat running down his face runs back and forth to get ingredients for his cake.
“Renthrow?”
“W-what?”
“Do you always look angry when you’re watching cooking shows?”
“I’m not angry.”
“Stressed, then. Isn’t this supposed to be relaxing?”
“I’m relaxed.”
“You’re clenching your jaw.”
“Am I?”
She tucks one leg under the other, and it makes my sweatshirt slide up over her thigh. “You know, you could really mess up your molars if you grind your teeth like that.”
I pounce to my feet. “You want something to drink?”
Cordelia blinks in surprise.
I stomp away to the kitchen, open the fridge, and stick my head in. It was a mistake to put Cordelia in my sweatshirt. I close my eyes, and I see a crystal-clear vision of her reaching for my shirt first thing in the morning. Her strolling down the hallway to catch me making breakfast for us and Gordie. I’d put my arm around her, and there’d be my ring on her finger…
“Are you okay?” Cordelia calls.
“Yeah!” I pull out of the fridge and grab the mug of water.
Friends. Cordelia and I are just friends. It’s what I asked for. It’s what she agreed to. I have no business imagining her staying over or having breakfast with us or wearing my ring—what’s with the ring? Since when have I ever imagined getting married again?
I guzzle the water down and pour another, knocking it back like a shot.
Get your head back on straight, Renthrow.
I’m walking a thin line here. Cordelia and I agreed to fake a relationship for her mother, but I have to remember the reason I’m letting her get so close.
She’s Gordie’s lifeline. If I do something stupid with her, make her uncomfortable, cross the line in a way we can’t recover from, she may not want anything to do with me.
And Gordie will be the one who suffers.
I can’t let that happen. Ever.
Gordie comes first.
Feeling like I have a better grip on myself, I turn around to offer Cordelia some water when I find her lying on the couch. Concern rushes through me until I run closer and realize she’s fallen asleep.
Her hands are tucked under her cheek, and her chest moves deeply with every breath. Not wanting to disturb her, I sit on the ground next to her. As if sensing my presence, she rolls to the edge of the sofa, and her hand flaps out in front of me.
I take the opportunity to get a better look at her and lean in close. Her skin is smoother than silk, and her eyelashes are thick and black.
My attention draws to her lips next, and my heart picks up speed. Her lips are small but full, shaped like those pouty dolls that Mom once bought Gordie for Christmas.
