Page 30 of The Weight of Love
Damn it. I have no idea what to do with him.
I’m still preoccupied with my thoughts when I slide into a seat next to him, coffee already waiting for me. It’s perfect. Black and not scalding hot. “Pretty sure I got it right.” “You did, no frills. How’d you know about the temperature?”
“Educated guess based on how fast you seem to slam it. No one does that with hot coffee.”
Something passes behind those eyes, and I want to know what he’s thinking so badly.
“So, you wanted to talk. What’s up?
“Yeah, I do. But I’m terrible at this.”
“If you’re stepping back because I’m throwing your morals into turmoil again, I understand. I get it. We attempted the whole friendship route, and perhaps I’m just a bad influence on you.”
“Stop.”
He places his hand on my thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.
“Stella, that’s not at all what I’m trying to say. Just... hold off on the mental gymnastics and dissecting my motives for a minute, okay? Let me try to express this properly.”
I nervously bite my bottom lip and nod slightly, noticing that familiar tense muscle twitch in his jaw.
“Here’s the thing—our friendship is not up for moral debate anymore. I’m beyond that. The struggle is real, though. You’re all I think about.”
I’m holding my breath, feeling like the world has shifted slightly off its axis. My thoughts are a tangled mess, all vying for attention at once.
“Oh?”
Stunning reply. Bravo.
“I’m afraid I can’t be casual with you. I keep trying to figure out my own feelings and then end up guessing at yours.”
I take several long gulps of coffee to make my brain snap out of the stunned chaos it’s buzzing with. He’s looking at me with those ocean-blue eyes, and I have no idea what to say.
“What are you thinking, Stella? Right now, the whole truth, no filter.”
Oh man, no filter? That’s dangerous…
“I think…that you’re right. You have been hot and cold. I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t let myself get back into that. So, on that side, you actually scare the shit out of me.”
He nods and squeezes my thigh again in encouragement.
“I think the age difference is something to be considered, too. Then there’s the fact I have kids. I’m not sure how you feel about that or how it would seem to them. I think you are absofuckinglutely the sexiest man I’ve ever been with. And let’s not even start on how amazing you are in bed—a solid ten out of ten. But that just adds to the confusion. You’ve gotten under my skin, and honestly, I’m not sure if I’m ready to be with someone again. On top of all this, I could use about five more coffees, there’s laundry waiting for me, and I think I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning that I’m totally unprepared for.”
I give him a shrug.
He wanted the truth.
“Laundry and work aside, where does that leave us?”
His question hangs between us. I have no idea how to answer.
“I really don’t know.”
We sit there in silence, neither of us sure what to say to the other. There’s no great solution when I literally admit to being a dysfunctional robot when it comes to emotions.
I leave the coffee shop more confused and conflicted than ever. He texts me, and I text him, but I am pretty much a mess the rest of the night.
I wake up for work with my eyes puffy from crying, exhausted from tossing and turning all night, and genuinely have no idea what to do with Clark, my ‘foster’ puppy.