Page 26 of Phishing for Love
“What if a hacker finds out about your phobia and sends you an email filled with dots?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“It could,” I argue.
“Highly improbable.”
“But possible.”
“On a scale of—”
“Ugh, okay, I yield. Anything to avoid hearing you recite statistics.”
He smiles. A smile that transforms his face, blindsiding me and unfurling a warm glow inside my chest. No wonder he is so sparing with his smiles. They possess the power to snatch the breath from your lungs.
Then I remember Ashley crying. I remember who made her cry.
Disappointment bites at me again, and I welcome it. Embrace it, even. Because it’s better than feeling something I have no business feeling.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” I say as I grab my yogurt and push back my chair. “But you owe me a cantaloupe!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sunday rolls around surprisingly quickly. I carry my bowl of potato salad up the porch steps of my parents’ house, while Nathan tucks a six-pack of beer under his arm. I’m admiring the bright colorful flowers in the pots lining the steps when Nathan surprises me by tugging me toward him and giving me a long, leisurely kiss.
I feel my body responding and he smiles against my mouth. “I’m lucky to have you, Tess Miller.”
“I believe I’m the lucky one,” I murmur.
The last couple of days with Nathan have been wonderful. He’s been so sweet and attentive. Friday night, we watched an action movie at his place. The movie was forgettable, but not his tenderness toward me. He gave me a glorious shoulder massage while we watched death and destruction play out on the screen. When the movie ended, he carried me to bed, holding me close against his chest. Yes, his face looked like he was straining a little, but the romantic gesture still bowled me over.
Saturday, Nathan brought me a continental breakfast in bed, and when I left in the afternoon to go clothes shopping with Kenzie, he kept up a steady stream of text messages telling me how much he loves me.
Suffice it to say, my heart is happy.
In the entrance hall, I call out, “We’re here.”
A small shape comes charging toward me. I have barely enough time to pass the potato salad to Nathan before I catch my niece as she launches herself into my arms.
“Auntie Tess!”
“Not Auntie Tess,” I growl. “Monster Tess!” I nuzzle her neck, pretending to eat her.
Lisset squeals and squirms in delight. Even when you’re seven, getting devoured by monsters never gets old.
My mother and Kate are in the kitchen, which smells of garlic and freshly baked bread. Mom is chopping up watermelon, her go-to dessert for barbecues. Nathan deposits the potato salad on the table and kisses my mother on the cheek in greeting. He calls out a hello to Kate, but keeps his distance. He knows she doesn’t tolerate overt displays of affection.
With Lisset still hanging on to me, I hug my mom and then turn to my sister. She’s wiping down an already spotless counter. No one tells her not to bother. Kate’s like a shark; if she stops moving, she’ll die. Or, as Grandma says, if she stops moving, she’ll start thinking, and no one wants to dwell in Kate’s mind, least of all herself.
“Hi, Kate.”
Still clutching the cloth, she stands stiffly while I wrap one arm around her in an awkward hug. I hold her for an extra two seconds, for no other reason than I simply miss touching her.
“Potato salad?” she asks, moving out of my arms and resuming wiping. “Dad winsagain?”
“I like potato salad too.” At least, I’ve progressed to not hating it.
Kate rolls her eyes. “Sure you do.”
