I blinked. “Come again?”
She stood tall, nodding once. Her hair was pulled back in some kind of twisted updo, but a thick strand fell loose and caressed her cheek. The same one that was tinted pink at her own words as she waited for my response. “I want to make you dinner. I have something in mind that I think you’d like. You can’t go wrong with a homecooked meal, right?”
The chair creaked under my weight as I leaned back with my hands folded on my stomach. “Depends what it is.” That was a lie. I’d be happy with anything that I didn’t have to take out of a container, especially if she were the one cooking it.
It wouldn’t be the first time she made me food. There were times in the past I let her experiment on me with meals she wanted to create that her father wouldn’t eat. He’d either be too busy or too tired by the time he’d gotten home. There were days when she’d admitted that she hadn’t even bothered making more than necessary because it just went to waste.
“Chicken alfredo with garlic bread.”
My stomach reacted instantly, but it wasn’t loud enough for her to know I was all in. Instead, I studied her for a moment until she shifted in uncertainty before giving her a light smile. “I need to lock up since Abigail left. Did you take a cab here?”
“Uber.”
“What did I tell you about those?”
Her blue eyes rolled, lined with thick black lashes, and a brightness in them that always made her look happy even when she wasn’t. “Like taxis are any better? Plus, they’re practically the same thing.”
I couldn’t argue with her, but that didn’t stop my deadpanned expression from crossing my features. “You have a driver.”
“That I hate using,” she replied instantly.
“You like Dallas.”
“Yes, I do like Dallas.” Her agreement was light, making my lips waver upward over her gentleness. She liked everybody, that was the problem. “But that doesn’t mean I like using his services when I’m capable of getting myself places other ways. Not to mention, Dallas’s wife just had a baby and it wouldn’t be fair for me to call him away while he enjoys Cody.”
“Cody?”
“The baby.”
“Ah.” I flattened my palm against my dress shirt, today’s choice charcoal gray that hid a stain I’d accidently gotten on it during lunch, before grabbing my jacket from where it hung by the door. “I still don’t want you using Uber.”
“You’re being silly.”
“I’m being practical.” I wasn’t and we both knew it, but I liked our banter. “You could call me if necessary.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
And surprise you did, little Della. But capturing the sight of her bare thighs and the way they were shaped from years of dance, even after her extensive weight loss, made me realize just how much I needed to stop calling her that. I rarely did it aloud anymore because it felt inappropriate, like an insult somehow. Adele was no longer the little girl who begged to dance while standing on my shoes, but a grown woman capable of pulling any man to the floor and demanding they dance with her. That didn’t stop me from dancing with her over the weekend, relishing in an old memory that calmed us both down, when I found her moving by herself. I wanted to give her peace of mind, something to hold onto that would never change. We’d always have the past.
Not only that, I supposed, but words could be triggering for her. I’d done the research after her official diagnosis, even asking a therapist who’d specialized in eating disorders what I could do to help because I was desperate to be somebody she could lean on if she needed. Della, no matter what she believed, didn’t need anybody. She was stronger than she gave herself credit for. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try avoiding terms or affirmations that put her in the place she fought a long time to get out of.
“You’re doing it again. Being all overprotective for no reason. I told you last time we talked about this that I would be fine. Look, I haven’t been kidnapped yet.”
I eyed her. “You do realize you just jinxed yourself, right? Your father will haunt me when news breaks that former Governor Saint James’s daughter went missing after hailing a taxi all on her lonesome.”
I didn’t miss the way her lips pressed together, and eyes dulled at the statement, causing me to rethink what I’d said. Sighing, I walked over and waited for her to look at me. The tips of our shoes touched we were so close, and I saw the pink painted on her toenails from where they peeked out the front of her heels. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like people referring to you like that. It just slipped out.”
She hesitated for a moment before lifting her gaze to meet mine, looking at me through her lashes. “It’s stupid, right? He was my father and I loved him so much. It shouldn’t irritate me when people call me that.”
“But you’re your own person. I get it.” I didn’t think Anthony ever saw how much Della would flinch whenever she was asked questions about him or addressed by anything except her name. It was always as Governor Saint James’s daughter, or some other association that made her less of an individual. I understood why it ate at her. “You’ll always be Della to me,” I whispered despite my better judgement. My fingers itched to reach out and cup her jaw, to brush the full bottom lip of hers, but I forced them to remain by my sides.
“Your little Della, you mean,” she teased, her eyes lighting back up to their natural color.
Slowly, I shook my head. “Not anymore.” She frowned at that, but I didn’t let her get into her head to dissect it because I knew whatever conclusion she’d come up with wouldn’t be a good one. “You’re too old for that now. It would be an injustice to the woman you’ve become, to your character.”
Her face flushed, the pink in her cheeks deepening and making me want to touch her that much more, to feel the heat blossoming beneath my fingertips. “You’re too nice to me.”
“I’m telling the truth. That’s all.”
She stood back first, putting distance between us that I should have done. It made me realize just how closely we stood, and I hadn’t given a shit. “So, chicken alfredo?”
Not able to stop the amused laugh from bursting past my pressed lips, I buttoned my suit jacket and shook my head. “I’d never say no to you, Della.”
She gave me a long look and I realized my mistake once the words were out, but it was too late to fix it. So, we let it be.
The house smelled like garlic by the time I’d made it downstairs after a quick shower and change of clothes. Della had taken off her blazer, draping it across the kitchen table as she focused on stirring something on the stove. Even with her back to me, I knew her tongue was sticking out slightly in concentration, something she’d done ever since she was little. I’d always found it cute, endearing even, because she had no idea she did it. It allowed me to hold onto something that didn’t change with her as time passed. It was always going to be something that made Della…Della.
“I can feel you staring,” she told me, looking over her shoulder with a bright smile and catching me with my own stretching my lips. I walked in, unfazed by being caught, though I should have been.