There is no doubt in my mind that he felt the attraction toward me the way I did with him. I saw the way he watched me. He had all night, seeming mesmerized when I’d catch him, and having no shame that he’d been caught. It was almost as if he wanted me to catch him.
But I was still hesitant to allow myself to fully explore and experience what could be between us. I thought about it. A lot. But I’d never felt this way about anyone, so of course it terrified me.
Then there was the whole “No Fraternization” policy… one Bishop didn’t have in the employee handbook, but still, I didn’t want to ruin things.
What if we started something and things ended badly? Where would that leave me? I had my father to think about, his medical bills, and making sure he was taken care of so he didn’t have to worry about taking care of me.
I pursed my lips and continued to stare out the passenger window, my thoughts rolling around and around, my heart telling me it wanted one thing despite the what-ifs, the worries, or how things may or may not end.
I let myself glance over at him, looking at his profile, finding him even more attractive by the way the shadows seemed to make his dark features even starker. His dark-brown hair looked almost black in the interior of the car, inkiness that spilled over his forehead. I wanted to reach up and push those strands away, maybe even tangle my fingers in his hair and pull him forward, make him kiss me.
Okay, calm down.
I still couldn’t pull my gaze from him. He had this five-o’clock shadow covering his cheeks and jaw, one that made him even sexier if that were possible. That facial hair made him look a little rough around the edges, and I felt my pulse beat faster.
He glanced over at me, and I quickly looked away, biting my bottom lip, because I was a little embarrassed that he’d seen me staring at him openly.
“How long have you lived in the city?” he asked, breaking up the silence, his voice so deep that my toes actually curled inside my shoes.
I cleared my throat and prayed my voice didn’t falter, didn’t stutter from my emotions. “My whole life,” I answered. “My mother passed away when I was twelve, and it’s just been my father and me.”
He looked at me for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. “I’m sorry about your mother.” I could hear the sincerity in his voice. “Do you like the city?”
I looked back out the passenger window, thankful he didn’t probe about my mother. Not that I didn’t want to talk about it, but when things like that were dredged up, it tended to bring the mood to a dark place. And I wanted things to be light with Bishop.
I really thought about his question and knew I never wanted to pretend with him. “Actually, no. Not really.” I looked back at him, my head still on the headrest of the seat. “I’d love to move away from all of this one day, but with my father’s not doing well because of his autoimmune disease and him declining over these last few years, staying put is the only option right now.” I smiled then. “One day I hope to have a little bit of property for him. He loves to garden.”
“I’m sorry… again.” He sat up straighter but didn't say anything else. But the tone of his voice told me he knew the pain I felt.
He knows that agony.
I wanted to ask, wanted to know his story, but I’d never pry. But maybe he sensed it, felt that I wanted to hear, because he cleared his throat, and said, “I lost my mother to cancer shortly after I graduated high school.”
There was a long stretch of silence, but I waited, stayed silent. He too knew the pain of losing a parent. A mother.
“I know how hard it is talking about a parent who passed away. It’s easier for me now, all these years later, but back then, after that happened,” he said, his voice going deeper, “I clammed up, shut myself away, and blocked everything out.”
I know what you mean.
“I was the same way.” I spoke honestly. “It’s taken a long time for me to come out of my shell too. And it was all thanks to my father. He didn’t push me to talk, didn’t try to empathize with me. He was feeling the same things I was, but he knew I needed to do it in my own time, my own way.”
“My mother died three days before my nineteenth birthday. My father was long gone by then, so it had just been her and me.” There was another stretch of silence, and I was struck by how similar our lives had been in that regard.
Single parents raising a child. Although Bishop was truly alone.
I want to be there for him.
“It was hard for her. She worked two jobs just to put a roof over our heads and food on the table.” He cleared his throat again and shifted on the seat, as if he didn’t want to stay still. As if he couldn’t. “She was my best friend. We talked about everything. She had a love for music, specifically jazz. We even talked about going into business together, maybe with a restaurant, or a bar. Of course it was only this fantasy, something we’d talk about while we ate dinner. It was a pipe-dream for sure, but it made her smile, so I loved us going down that road.”
That’s why he’d opened up Lyrics.
“I didn’t have plans for myself, not really. I was going to get a job after I graduated so she didn’t have to worry about money so much and so she wouldn’t have to work two jobs.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “But she really wanted me to get a degree. She wanted me to be the first in our family to have a college degree. And when I graduated, I did that. I went to the community college and was working on getting a business degree, because I was going to open up a bar for us. One we could run together.”
My heart was in my throat, but I stayed silent and just listened.
“But then she got sick, and it happened so fast. She passed away, and then it was just me.”
God, my heart broke, but still I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say, how to take that pain from him.
“I blocked everything else out.”
He disconnected from the world.
“I finished school with a degree, worked my ass off to save money, took out a loan, and the rest is history. The “rest” is called Lyrics.” He cleared his throat again. “My mother’s name was Lyric.”
Oh God. I felt tears prick my eyes. He named it after his mother.
I was pretty sure I just fell in love with Bishop at that moment.
“It’s obviously named after my mother, but also a play on her love of music.” He looked at me briefly then before focusing back on the road, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’m pretty sure she’d love that place. I tried to interject all the little things she once talked about wanting if we ever owned a bar.”
I quickly brushed tears away from my cheeks, trying to hide the movement. I didn’t want to show my sympathy. Some people didn’t want that. Sometimes that made things worse, so instead I reached out and placed my hand over his, which rested on his thigh. His entire body stiffened as if he were shocked by my move. Bishop glanced over at me, his expression unreadable.
I curled my fingers around his, holding his hand, because that was what I’d needed done for me many times in the past. That was what helped me when I was at my lowest, so maybe it would help him too.
It was times when you shared the hardest, darkest parts of your world with someone that you formed a soul-deep connection. It was in that moment you realized it was the realest thing you’d ever experienced in your life.