Page 30 of Wrapped in Hope
“What do you want me to say?” Her eyes fall down to the table between us as she worries her bottom lip nervously.
I shrug. “Anything. Describe him to me.”
She lets out a puff of air as she shakes her head. “Dean was… tall, and thin. He had these blue-green eyes that could cut right through me. His touch, it was like an electric current. It could calm me, it could get me going; it could do everything. He always tasted of mint and this deep, woodsy flavor. And he always knew exactly what to say. He was sweet and kind. I loved him.” Her eyes start to tear.
“And do you think Dean would approve of the way you’ve been living your life these last five years?” My beer is placed in front of me. I pick it up and take a sip, hoping it distracts me from my earlier thoughts.
She shakes her head without saying a word, eyes still not meeting mine. She knows I can read her with one look. If she doesn’t look at me, I can’t read her, or so she thinks.
“What do you think he would want for you?”
With a shrug of her shoulders, she says, “he would want me to be happy. He would want me to move on with my life, go to college, fall in love with someone who will treat me as well as he did.”
“So why haven’t you been living like that?”
“I just can’t. I miss him. I can’t see past him.” She takes a deep breath and releases it as she sits forward, resting her hands on the table.
I place my hand over hers. Automatically, I wish I hadn’t. Her touch nearly burns me. I want to pull away as soon as we make contact, but I don’t want to do that and have her think something is wrong. I just want to comfort her, but even a simple touch like this has me thinking things I shouldn’t. Every little look and touch from her only pulls me in more.
When my thumb grazes against her hand, her eyes pop up to mine. They are wide and filled with a wanting I can’t place. Does she want me, or does she just long for friendly support?
We’re both frozen in place, neither of us knowing exactly what this is or what we should do. When the waiter brings our food, I remove my hand from hers and everything goes back to normal.
We sit and quietly eat. We watch the world move on around us. I can feel her eyes on me every time I take mine off her. It’s like a game a couple of kids would fucking play when they are both too afraid to admit they like one another.
Fuck. I’m not imagining things. She feels the current every time we touch too. How is that possible? How could she be attracted to me? I’m twenty years her senior. I’m her dead boyfriend’s father. She’s just confused, is all. I’m the only fucked up one who could misconstrue a situation like this.
I pay the bill and we load back up in my Jeep so I can drop her off. I’m in a hurry. I need her away from me so I can think clearly. Just being around her confuses me. As much as I love being with her, I can’t. I need space to sort some things out.
I stop in front of her building and she looks at me with wide eyes, like she’s expecting something.
“Will I see you again?” Her voice is dripping with nerves. But is it because she’s afraid she won’t ever see me again, or is it because she will miss having company?
“Do you want to see me again?”
Her eyes land on my lips before popping back up to my eyes, but she nods.
I want to move in and kiss her so goddamn bad, but I can’t betray her trust. She needs me, and I can’t use that as a way to get into her pants.
“Then you will,” I promise her.
The corners of her mouth turn up just a bit before she nods and climbs out of the passenger side.
Once she’s inside the building and the door closes behind her, I pull out into traffic and drive away from her as quickly as I can before I can talk myself into going after her and taking what I want.