Page 72 of Until Nalia
“We do.” I slide off his lap that is far too comfortable and reach over for my wine glass. “Have you ever dated someone with kids before?”
“Before you? No.”
“Are we dating?” I ask with a smile that feels weird after today.
“You’ve met my family, I’ve met yours, our kids are cool spending time with each other, we’ve had more than a few meals together, even a couple alone. I don’t know about your definition of dating, but I think it’s safe to say that’s what we’re doing here.”
“When you lay it out like that, it kind of does sound like we’re dating.” I take a sip of wine to try to wash away the feeling settling in the middle of my chest. It doesn’t work.
“Are you gonna run?” he asks, scanning his eyes over my face, and my heart begins to pound.
“Would you let me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then I guess it would be pointless to try.”
“It would be.” His hand finds mine, and he laces our fingers together.
“You scare me,” I admit, resting my head on his shoulder and I listen to him take a deep breath than let it out slowly before he whispers.
“I know.”
Twenty-One
NALIA
Sage
We need to talk.
Seeing that message from my brother pop up on my computer, a sense of unease fills the pit of my stomach.
It wasn’t always like that with him. There was a time that he and I were so close I considered him one of my best friends, but when I began to have a relationship with our birthmother, our relationship quickly deteriorated. He couldn’t understand why I would want to connect with her, and I couldn’t explain my reasons to him because he wouldn’t understand, and he also made it clear that he didn’t care.
There would never be a reason good enough in his book to reconnect with the person who essentially abandoned us. And perhaps he was right, but I just couldn’t do what he did, I couldn’t pretend like she didn’t exist. And although our relationship has improved over the years with the help of his wife Kim, we’ve never been as close as we once were and there has always been an underlying sense of tension between us.
Sighing, I send him a message back telling him to let me know when he wants to meet up, then get back to work. As I’m talking on the phone with a client a few minutes later, a message pops up from him on my computer screen telling me that he’s in my area and that he can stop by if I’m home.
I message back that that works for me, despite the fact that I honestly have no desire to talk to him about what happened with our parents yesterday. And I’m sure that’s what this is about. Knowing our mom, she took what I said and called my brother, wanting to make sure that he hasn’t felt the same as I have over the years.
With Sage on his way, I get off the phone with my client and quickly write down a note so that I’ll remember to talk to Bax about the questions she has regarding the flooring and paint colors she was shown by the designer she met with.
Leaving my office, I walk to the kitchen, my eyes landing on the bottle of wine still on the counter from last night when Logan came over. He stayed until almost ten and only left when I started yawning, and it was obvious I needed to go to bed. I didn’t want him to leave, and I could tell that he felt the same, but with both of us having kids, his staying any longer wasn’t even a possibility, so he kissed me goodnight at the door and told me he’d call.
This morning while he was on his way to work we spoke, and he asked if Zuri and I would want to have dinner with him and the kids tonight. Even through I wanted to say yes, I told him that I would talk to Zuri after I get her from school and see what she wants to do. I know that her and Coop have gotten close and that she really likes Billie, but I don’t want her to feel overwhelmed with all the time we’ve been spending with them.
While I’m cleaning up the kitchen there’s a knock on the door, I drag in a breath and walk to the living room swinging the door in.
My brother looks the same as he always has; his complexion is the same as mine, along with his eye color and full lips. It’s odd looking at him, since his features mirror my own, and every time I see him, I wonder what our biological father must have looked like. Was he as handsome as Sage? It also brings up other questions, like did he know about us, or were we a secret Sharon kept? Those questions I’ll probably never get answers to, but I still have them.
“Hey,” I give him a hug, then stand back as he steps into the house. He hasn’t been here since I moved in, and I see him looking around.
“It looks great in here.”
“Thanks,” I tell him over my shoulder as I walk to the kitchen with him following. “Do you want a drink?”
“I’ll have water if that’s okay.” He takes a seat at one of the stools at the island, and I feel the tension in the room get heavy as I get down two glasses. After pouring him and myself a glass of water, I pass him his and then stand across from him.
