Mila’s head swivels back and forth between Serena and me so many times it’s almost comical. I press my lips together, watching Serena scowl up at the woman who I assume is a friend of hers.
“Mila. You’ve got customers,” she says pointedly.
“Uh huh,” Mila replies, then points her finger between us. “But this is far more interesting. We’ll talk later, lady. Deputy, nice to meet you.”
As soon as she’s gone, Serena lets out a quiet groan. “I’m sorry about her. She means well, but nosy doesn’t begin to cover it.”
“I kind of got that sense,” I say, fighting back a grin. “It’s fine, Tippy.”
The nickname slips out before I can catch it and we both freeze instantly.
“Wow. I haven’t heard that in a long time,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I croak, “I haven’t exactly called anyone else Tippy Toes in a long time, either.”
What started as a way for me to tease Serena about dancing en pointe turned into something special between just the two of us. My favourite was calling her Tippy when we would make love. She’d get this fierce look on her face, but secretly, I knew she adored it. And she always came really fucking hard.
“I hope you still drink peppermint tea,” I say awkwardly, sliding the cup over to her. “And these muffins smelled too good to pass up.”
“I do, thank you, and they’re delicious. Good choice,” Serena replies, and I swear she’s just a little bit impressed that I still remember her favourite drink.
She blows across the steaming surface of her cup before lifting her eyes to meet mine. “Leo, I feel like I owe you an explanation.” Her voice falters at the end and I impulsively cover her hand with my own.
The instant I feel her satin skin against the pads of my much rougher palms, I’m transported back in time.
The first time I held her hand, we were sixteen. It was our first date at the movie theater. I was terrified, but also hopelessly infatuated with her. She made the first move, placing her arm on the armrest between us, her palm facing up. She wiggled her fingers expectantly, and after I wiped my palm on my pants, I placed it on hers. That first contact was electric. No, it was addictive. I knew then and there, I would never want to stop holding her hand.
That feeling hasn’t changed, and judging by the way her eyes are staring down at our hands, and the ever so slight rub of her thumb across my knuckles, she’s feeling it, too. The wash of memories, mixed with the tantalizing temptation of possibility.
I never stopped missing Serena. I still miss the feel of her body against mine, her lips on my lips. Even the pain that’s lingered for two decades inside of me doesn’t change the fact that I’d give anything to feel her again.
“You don’t owe me anything. We were kids, shit happens.” That’s not even the tiniest bit true, we may have been young, but there was nothing flippant about how I felt about her. But I’ve always needed to do whatever it takes to make Serena feel okay. That’s why I didn’t fight her when she broke up with me because I could tell, instinctively, that she needed to do it.
And taking care of her was always my first priority.
“Please, I want to at least... Oh God, I don’t know.” Her chin drops down to her chest, elongating the beautiful line of her neck. My fingers ache with wanting to stroke the soft skin there. But I can’t. She’s not mine anymore. Instead, I settle for squeezing her hand gently, internally cheering when she squeezes it back.
There’s no denying I still have it bad for Serena.
“Serena, we were in love. But we were young. Whatever happened to make you feel like you needed to break it off, it’s okay, I forgive you. I’ve never been mad at you or held it against you.”
Her eyes lift to meet mine, and I can see the hesitation, the nerves, the worry layered in them.
“You know you can tell me anything, Tippy. That hasn’t changed.”
I can tell the second she decides to trust me on that. Her chest lifts in a deep breath, and she expels it slowly.
“My parents got divorced and my dad abandoned me.”
Wow. That’s not at all what I was expecting. The Mathesons always seemed so happy, the perfect united front, always there to support Serena. I imagined me and her being like them someday. Then there’s the fact that I had no clue. Granted, I took off from of our hometown pretty fucking quick after Serena broke it off with me. I couldn’t stand to be around all of our memories. But still, my mom never mentioned a thing.
“Wait, what? What happened?”
She lets out a harsh laugh. “I wish I knew. But their breakup messed me up. I was blindsided and I didn’t handle it well. I mean, if divorce could happen to my parents, of all people, it could happen to anyone. I spent seventeen and a half years thinking I had the perfect family, two parents who loved each other, the role models of a healthy marriage, only to find out it was all a giant fucking lie.”
She pulls her hand away, and I instantly miss the connection, especially given that I can feel the anger and hurt rolling off her in waves. I want to comfort her, but I can’t.
“Anyway, I started to panic that you and me, what we had, was too good to be true.”