Before I could react, she held up her hand. “But I need to think this over, Van. Maybe I’m not ready for a relationship.”
“We’ll take it slow. I already told you that. Whatever pace you need—please don’t shut me out.”
She smiled sadly. “The problem is, I don’t think there is a slow with you. Now that we’ve flipped that switch, it’s as if I’m full steam ahead when I’m around you. You’re like a flame I want to hold, but I know I’m going to get burned.”
I shook my head, my voice low and serious. “You won’t. I need you to tell me your story—all of it. Tell me why you’re so skittish and let me help you figure us out. We’re good together. All three of us.” I took a chance and grabbed her hand, holding it tight. “God, Liv, one day and I missed you and Sammy. All I wanted was to come talk to you and make it right. That has to count for something.”
She looked down at our hands. “It does.”
I withdrew my touch, sensing her hesitation. “But it’s not enough?”
She stood. “I need a little time, Van. Just a little time. Can you give me that?”
Her voice was pleading, her eyes conflicted. But they weren’t angry. She needed time, and I could give her that.
“If you say I’m forgiven, I can give you some space.”
“You are forgiven, but yesterday did frighten me, and I need to think.”
I hated the thought I had frightened her. But I knew she had to figure this out without my pushing her.
I heard Jordan’s voice in the hall, approaching the office. I stood, holding the file she had brought me. “Thank you.”
She walked toward the door.
“Liv,” I called.
She turned.
“I’ll give you time, but I can’t promise I’ll be patient. You’re too special. You and Mouse. I want you to know that.”
She hurried away, but I saw her smile.
I sat down, feeling torn. Things weren’t as dark as they seemed yesterday, but was it enough?
Liv
When Van pulled up on Tuesday morning, I was surprised to see him alone. He stepped out of the truck, rounding the front. He was wearing jeans, and his denim shirt was stretched across his broad chest and shoulders, pulling slightly at the seams.
“Change of plans,” he announced. “Bentley called just before I got here. They’re on their way to the hospital.”
“Oh.”
“He asked if next week was okay.”
I went through my schedule in my head. “Yeah. My mom is still in town to help with the day care drop-off, so it should be good.”
He opened the door for me, offering his hand to help me up. I tamped down the feeling of disappointment he hadn’t lifted me in again. He was following my request for time, after all.
He eased himself behind the wheel, checked his mirrors, then swung the truck around.
“Van, the office is the other way.”
He looked mischievous. “No one is expecting us, Liv. We’re playing hooky, and I’m taking you for coffee.”
“Coffee,” I repeated.
“Yep. Coffee. Two people drinking caffeine, getting to know each other.”
I felt a grin tug at my lips. He made it sound so simple and innocent. Yet, knowing him, I knew it was neither.
He chuckled and patted my leg. “C’mon, Liv. It’s coffee. What could possibly happen?”
I had no response.
At the restaurant, I followed him to a booth. He waited as I slid in, then took a seat opposite me. He filled the bench, his massive shoulders looking even bigger in the enclosed space. I noticed a cut on his wrist as he handed me a menu. His wound looked raw and sore. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand. “What happened?”
He shrugged, staring at my fingers as they traced the cut. “Saw slipped—the edge caught me.”
“It should be covered.”
“Oh. I thought it needed to air.”
Clucking my tongue, I dug through my purse, pulling out a small first aid kit. He watched, amused, as I cleaned his wrist with an alcohol wipe, then dabbed some antiseptic ointment on it, and covered it with a bandage.
“You have an entire clinic in your bag, Livvy?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
I shook my head. “Part of the job, both as a designer and a mother. Someone is always getting cuts or scrapes.”
“I’ll remember that in the future when I’m bleeding.” He flexed his hand, then reached across the table and squeezed my fingers. “Thanks.”
“Keep it covered and clean. I’ll check it tomorrow.”
He bent his head to study the menu. “I look forward to it.”
His hand stayed where it was, covering mine, and for some reason, I let it. When the huge breakfast he ordered arrived, he gave my fingers a final squeeze. My fingers felt cold without his warmth.
He frowned at the bagel and fruit I had ordered.
“That’s not breakfast, Livvy. That’s a snack.”
I chuckled. “I had coffee and cereal earlier with Sammy.”
He rolled his eyes. “With the energy you put out in a day, you need more protein.” He sliced off a wedge of his omelet and slid it onto my plate. He added a couple strips of bacon, then satisfied, went back to eating.
“I can’t eat your breakfast.”
“It’s yours now. You never eat enough. I need you healthy and strong.”
I picked up the bacon and nibbled at it, shutting my eyes as the flavor filled my mouth. “I love bacon,” I admitted.
“Then why didn’t you get some?”
I shifted, feeling uncomfortable. “I watch what I eat. My weight has always been a sore spot for me.”
He stopped chewing, laying down his utensils. He swallowed, then hunched over the table, his eyes boring into mine. “Your weight—you—are perfect. I appreciate you want to be healthy, but there is nothing wrong with you. I love how you look. How you feel. Everything about you. Understood? Whatever, whoever, put such a crazy notion in your head—they were wrong. You are beautiful. Exactly the way you are. Got it?”
I blinked. Swallowed. Stared at him. His gaze was intense and steady, his words firm. Finally, I whispered, “Got it.”
“Good.” He raised his hand, beckoning the waitress. “Another order of bacon, please. And may I have more coffee?”
She winked. “Sure, hun. Need to fuel that furnace of yours, eh?”
He picked up his fork with a grin, throwing me a wink.
“Oh, it’s fueled. I’m just waiting for the spark. I’m all set to explode.”
I tried not to laugh.
I failed.
Sunday morning, I shifted on the park bench, waving at Sammy as she hung upside down. I covered my mouth, trying to hide the continuous yawns that kept escaping.
I wasn’t sleeping well. I kept busy during the days, but once Sammy had gone to bed and I was alone, my thoughts were filled with Van. If I was being honest, he crept into my head during the day as well, but it was easier to push those thoughts aside when I had something else to concentrate on.
He stuck to his promise, giving me space and not pushing me. Aside from our coffee date on Tuesday, we hadn’t been alone. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t trying.