Page 26 of All Wrong
That spark fizzled out. It wasn’t her absence that he’d noticed, but Lacie’s concern.
“Yeah, well, there was a reason for that,” she said, turning her focus to her ice cream. As long as she was sharing her shortcomings, she might as well include her pathetic love life. “Unbeknownst to me, Lacie decided to play matchmaker with me and the new PE teacher. She was worried I wouldn’t show.”
Seconds ticked by in silence, each one marked off by the battery-powered clock hanging on the wall, a housewarming gift from when she’d moved in ages ago.
“Does that happen a lot?” he asked finally.
“More than I’d like.” She flicked a glance his way, offering a small but reassuring smile. “I was dodginghim when I saw what happened with you and the boys at the fair. I wasn’t following you or anything.”
Nick’s expression gave nothing away.
“And you already know about my car dying on me.” She stuffed a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth before she mentioned her imminent eviction. She’d done enough whining. “So, yeah, I sought out the comfort of carbs and salt and sugar. Sue me.”
She exhaled and dug her spoon into the bowl again. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the universe trying to tell me something.”
“Like what?”
Like maybe I need to move on. Make a fresh start somewhere else.“Like I should’ve picked up some Tums while I was at the store. I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.”
“A life without regrets means you aren’t really living,” he said, that enigmatic smile curling his lips again.
She had the crazy urge to kiss him. To straddle his lap, delve her fingers into that dark, silky hair, and do potentially regrettable things. Or maybe not so regrettable, depending on how he responded.
His crystal-clear eyes darkened, becoming a smoky quartz, almost as if he’d read her mind.
She cleared her throat. “What about you?”
He finished the last of his ice cream, then looked over the selections and picked up a bag of sour cream and cheddar chips, his eyes glinting with amusement. “My stomach is just fine. This is the healthiest I’ve eaten all week.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did.”
She set her bowl down and gave him her full attention. “You and I, we’re kind of in the same boat.”
He raised his eyebrows. The doubt in his eyes suggested he didn’t agree.
“Yeah, I think so. We’re both single. Around the same age. Surrounded by friends and family who are living out their own personal fairy tales while we go about our own lives, doing our own thing.”
“Is there a question in there?”
“Are you happy?” she blurted out. “I mean, with where you are in life?”
His eyes narrowed, wariness creeping in, dulling the reflective silvery-gray chips that sparkled when he was amused. She got the distinct impression that this was not a subject he was comfortable talking about.
“For the most part.”
Which meant there were some things that he wasn’t pleased about.
“If you could change anything, what would it be?”
He appeared to consider that, and then his eyes met hers. For one brief, fleeting moment, she caught a glimpse of everything she felt reflected back at her. The sense of perpetually being on the periphery. Of the wistful longing for somethingmore. Of the whispers that said she wasn’t good enough or deserving enough to even ask.
Just that quickly, the shields were back up. He got to his feet. “I have to go.”
The sudden shift caught her off guard. She rose too. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t,” he said. “There’s something I need to do.”
