“I promise,” I say, seeing Gaston’s reflection as he gets off the couch and brings my glass and his beer bottle to the kitchen.
“Shit,” Mom hisses in my ear.
“What?”
“I didn’t realize how late it is. I shouldn’t have called you about this tonight.” She pauses. “Really, I shouldn’t have called you about this at all. I just—”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I say, cutting her off. “You know I’m here anytime you want to talk.”
“It’s not okay. I don’t want my stupid emotions messing up your relationship with your father. I’ll try to do better.”
I don’t tell her that there isn’t a relationship to mess up. Just like he did to my mom, he’s pretty much cut me and my brother out of his life. I don’t know if it’s guilt causing him to keep his distance or if he’s trying to erase anything having to do with his old life before he remarried. Whatever it is, it hurts, which is why I try not to think about it at all, and I definitely don’t talk to my mom about it. She’s emotional enough, and she doesn’t need anything else to stress or worry about.
“Get some sleep, honey. I’m sure you’re exhausted. We’ll talk tomorrow. We can meet for dinner, and you can show me Leah’s wedding pictures.”
“I’d really like that,” I agree, then whisper, “I love you, Mom. Always.”
“I love you too, baby, and I promise I’ll keep it together from now on. Sleep well.”
“You too.” I hang up and inhale deeply before I turn around. When my eyes catch Gaston’s, which are filled with concern, the promise I made to my mom about never trusting a man feels like a thousand-pound weight on my shoulders.
“Everything okay?”
I want to say no and tell him everything—every sad detail about my parents and their marriage. I want to tell him about my dad and how close we used to be, about how I don’t even hear from him anymore. As much as I want to tell him all of that, we’re not at a point where I would feel comfortable unloading that kind of baggage on him, and honestly, I’m still not sure he’s who he seems to be.
“Yeah, just family stuff.”
“You sure? That sounded pretty intense.”
“I’m sure you understand better than most people how crazy family stuff can be.”
“Yeah,” he agrees softly, studying me and still looking concerned, which kills because it makes me like him that much more. “Do you want me to go?”
No, I want to say, but I ignore that urge. I need time to think, time to figure out what I’m feeling. So instead I say, “I’m sorry. It’s late, and I have to be up early.”
He nods in understanding, and my insides twist with disappointment, but I ignore that feeling too and head toward the door. Without looking, I know he’s following, and once I open the door I keep my eyes on my feet, because I won’t be able to stomach another of his worried looks.
“Thank you for dinner; it was delicious.”
Without warning, he wraps his warm, strong hand around the side of my neck, and his fingers apply pressure to my chin, forcing my eyes up to meet his. “Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t just goodbye, but goodbye?”
My jaw aches as I fight to keep an unexpected wave of tears at bay. I don’t know anyone else who can read me so easily, and it really sucks that he seems to be able to, even after knowing me such a short time. “I think the fact you’re leaving means goodbye is the correct word to say.”
“Don’t try to be cute. You know exactly what I’m saying,” he growls, and my pulse speeds up. I attempt to pull away from his grasp, but he doesn’t loosen his hold. Instead, his fingers tighten; then his other hand grips my hip firmly, keeping me in place and anchoring me to him as his eyes bore into mine. “No. No fucking way am I going to allow you to tangle me in your web that smells like cupcakes and frosting and then just walk away without knowing if I’ll see you again.”
“I’m not trying to tangle you in my web,” I deny shakily.
“You didn’t have to try. I got caught all on my own.” His thumb skims my jaw. “I don’t want to be free, but this isn’t just about me, sweetheart. I need to know you want me where I am.”
I block him out the only way I can. I close my eyes, needing just a few seconds to wrap my mind around what he’s saying. I can still hear my mom’s plea in the back of my mind, but the feeling inside my chest—the one telling me to take a chance on this guy who puts me at ease, turns me on, and makes me laugh—is louder.
“You’ll see me again,” I tell him quietly while opening my eyes.
“When?”
“Whenever you have time,” I say, figuring he has a business to run, so it should be a few days before I see him again. And hopefully by then, I’ll have talked to Leah, and she’ll have helped me sort through my emotions.
“Tomorrow?”
Crap. So much for my plan. Then again, maybe not. “I’m having dinner with my mom tomorrow.” I use the only lifeline I have.
“Come to my place after.”
“I . . .” I start to tell him it might be late and that I will most likely be too tired to drive anywhere.
“Did I forget to mention I live in this building?”
“What?” I stare at him with wide eyes.
“I’m ten floors above you. After you have dinner with your mom, come up. We’ll talk and hang out for a while before I leave for work.”
“You live in this building?” I’m shocked, and my voice reflects that.
“Yeah.”
“But I’ve never seen you before.”
He smirks, pressing his forehead to mine. “Sweetheart, thousands of people live here. I’m just one of those thousands.”
He’s right, but you’d think I would have noticed him at some point—especially since he’s so obviously . . . noticeable. “I guess you’re right,” I say, and he smirks again.
“Now tell me I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“You’re relentless.” I sigh, trying to sound put out, when I actually feel kind of elated he’s so set on spending time with me.
“You’re right, especially when I see something I want. Now make this easy on yourself and tell me what I want to hear.”
A shiver slides up my spine, and my voice is breathy when I give him the response he wants. “You’ll see me tomorrow night.”
“Good.” His thumb tugs down on my chin ever so slightly; then his lips press against mine. When his tongue touches the inner edge of my bottom lip, I lean in, and he groans before he releases me. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Feeling a little off balance from the kiss and his sudden pulling away, I nod. He grins, and my knees actually shake. “Night, sweetheart.”
“Night,” I tell his back as he turns to leave.
As soon as he passes the threshold, I shut the door and lock the three locks. I’m pretty sure I hear him laughing through the door. It would be embarrassing if he knew just how much he affects me. I go to the kitchen and grab my empty wineglass and pour the rest of the bottle into it as I look around. The kitchen is spotless. Surprisingly, he didn’t just cook; he cleaned as he went, so after we both ate, only the pans, our plates, and the silverware were left to place in the dishwasher, and he did that too before starting it.