My dick was throbbing as I sat on the uncomfortable red leather and watched her drink her coffee. I could have stayed in that spot for hours, but she was the one who called it a night.
“Wolf!” Rhys Quillan calls out to me as I round the corner headed for the café.
He sent me three text messages today. My phone sat in my pocket, silenced by order of the staff inside the hospital. I follow the rules if need be, and after a string of alerts, I was warned by a nurse to shut off my device.
I didn’t go that far, but it was quiet enough that I missed Rhys’s repeated attempts to reach out to me.
After I left the café earlier, he called, and I suggested we meet here. I know he lives within walking distance. I’m not billing him for this. He needs a few minutes of my time to get through the weekend. On Monday, he’s back in class. His weekdays are filled with responsibility instead of the endless empty hours on Saturdays and Sundays that are devoted to memories.
He told me during our first session that the time between Friday afternoon and his first class of the week is his downfall.
Sporting newly bleached blond hair, Rhys raises an arm. “I’m over here.”
He’s impossible to miss. The sidewalk isn’t as crowded as it was when I said goodbye to Athena. The city is winding down for the night.
Approaching him, I jerk a thumb at the door of the coffee shop. “This is the place. You didn’t have trouble finding it?”
“I know this place.” He glances at the paper menu taped to the window. “My mom used to bring me here for banana pudding after school when I was a kid.”
He’s only a decade younger than me, but I’d still label him as a kid. My jump from nineteen to twenty-nine was vast. I grew up once I graduated high school and hit college.
“We’ll order you one of those,” I half-joke.
His hands dart to cover his eyes.
Shit. Fucking hell.
I’m not an insensitive ass. I went into my line of work because of what I witnessed when I was a kid. My dad was always carrying the burden of the emotional pain he took on working as a detective with the NYPD.
My brother, Nick, lost his fianceé right around the time he was Rhys’s age. I lived through that sorrow with him. I was overwhelmed by her death, but I helped pull him out of the darkness.
“Rhys,” I start with a hand on his forearm. “Look, man, I’m…”
“She’d like it if I ordered it.” He sucks in a deep breath. “She’d smile if she knew I was here.”
Hope. It appears when you least expect it.
“I’ll give it a try too,” I say, tugging on the handle of the door to open it. “Grab a seat and I’ll get two coffees and two banana puddings.”
“Soda for me.” He pats a hand on my shoulder. “My mom always told me the coffee here was bad as hell.”
***
“It’s not half-bad, right?” I swing the bouquet I made in front of Athena.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she nods her head up and down. “It looks great, Liam.”
What the fuck?
I huff out a laugh. “Open your eyes. Take a good look at it.”
Squinting, she studies the mess of flowers in my hand. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate on her instructions? She’s wearing a blue dress and for fuck’s sake, her legs.
Her goddamn legs are perfection.
She’s not tall, but they’re perfect. Everything about her is everything I’ve ever wanted.
Leaning back, her gaze trails over my shirt to my face. “Do you want me to be honest?”