She flushed in satisfaction and looked down. I didn’t think I had ever seen a shy Lizzie before. A reserved one, yes, but shy was different. I liked seeing her like this, mostly because it told me I still affected her, probably as much as I had six years ago.
She pushed off the counter. I wrapped my hands around her waist to help steady her without thinking, only to let go quickly when I felt her stiffen in my arms. I stood there and watched her, making sure to stay close by in case she needed me.
She didn’t need me, and instead stood on both feet.
Shooting me a small smile, she said, “I’m fine. Like I said, you made a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be.”
I didn’t agree with that. I didn’t like to see her hurt. “Hmmm,” was all I offered.
“Thank you. For all the help,” she said politely.
My fist clenched by my side, not liking this polite side of her. I wished I could erase the six years of separation between us. Wished I had fought for her sooner, or at the very least, convinced her not to marry him. Now all that was left was this distance I didn’t know how to close, and a polite Lizzie I didn’t know what to do with.
“Don’t mention it,” I said, the emotions I felt making my voice rough.
Another small, hesitant smile and she brushed past me.
I waited a beat before I followed her, stopping in the foyer as I watched her open the front door and limp out.
Everything in me told me to go get her back. To carry her back into my house and not let her leave until she agreed to be mine. To convince her that I was worth the effort. Problem was, I didn’t know if I was.
I stood there for a long while after she closed the front door behind her, staring down at my hands.
Bloodstained fingers filled my vision before I shook away the imagery and walked to the kitchen sink to wash my hands.