I don’t respond and shovel a spoonful of spaghetti into my mouth so I’ll have an excuse not to.
“Apparently, she likes you a lot.”
I take a bite of bread. I still don’t speak. The food is hard to swallow.
“Her mom’s not speaking to me, either,” he says. He grins a sideways smile. “I kind of like having sex with my wife, so I figured I better come over and clear the air.”
I choke on my spaghetti. I look up at him as I try to catch my breath, coughing into my closed fist.
“Women have ways of getting what they want, Pete,” he says. “And my wife wants Reagan to make her own choices.” He inhales and exhales deeply. “I guess you’re her choice.” He jabs a finger at me. “But if you hurt her, so help you God, I will hunt you down and do things to you that can’t even imagine.”
“Yes, sir,” I squeak out. I clear my throat. “I just met her,” I remind him.
He shakes his head. “She’s known you in her head for two and a half years, son. You didn’t just meet her. You became her hero the night you took care of her. Now, how much of that is in her head and her head alone remains to be seen. But she feels a connection to you, and you’re the only one she’s ever let in. So, you’re in, with my blessing.”
I grin. “Thank you, sir.”
I look over to where Reagan’s sitting, but she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at the table. I take the last bite of my food and get ready to go to her. But by the time I get there, she’s already getting up and walking away. “Reagan,” I call to her.
She heaves a sigh and turns toward me. She kicks at a rock with the toe of her flip-flop. “Can I see you later?” I ask.
“Why?” she asks. She doesn’t look me in the eye.
“Oh, good grief,” I mutter.
Her gaze shoots up to meet mine. “Beg your pardon?” she asks.
Her back pocket rings, and she pulls her phone out, looking down at the screen. I see the name Chase before she lifts it to her ear and says hello. She holds up a finger to tell me to wait.
I grit my teeth and wait. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chase,” she finally says. She’s quiet, but I hear her.
She’s going out with him? Seriously? I know I told her to, but… God. I f**ked up.
“What did you need?” she asks as she sticks her phone back into her back pocket.
I feel like she just punched me in the gut. I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do. “You’re going out with that ass**le?” I ask.
She inhales deeply with her eyes closed, as if she’s fortifying herself before she speaks. “You told me to go out with him, Pete,” she says.
I nod. “I did.” She’s right. I’m an idiot. “Do you plan to listen to everything I say?”
She rolls her eyes at me. I’ve never seen anyone roll her eyes and look quite so damn adorable. I grin. I can’t help it.
“What’s so amusing?” she asks, punching her fists into her hips as she glares at me.
“This is so f**ked up,” I mutter, more to myself than to her.
But she hears me, and she’s hurt. I can see it on her face.
“I didn’t mean you,” I say.
She cocks her head to the side, her eyes narrowing at me. “Then what did you mean, Pete?”
“I meant this situation.” I gesture from me to her and back again. “This whole thing exists on awful timing.”
She goes to throw her plate in the trash, and I follow her. She stops and spins toward me really quickly and bumps into my chest. She steps back when I reach out to steady her. She smiles and shakes her head. “This really is f**ked up,” she says. She lets out a little laugh.
“So, Chase is the man, huh?” I say. I’m a dummy. I know.
“He’s some guy I have to go on a date with,” she says. She blows her bangs back from her forehead with an upturned breath.
“Can you get out of it?” I ask. Hope blooms inside me.
She shakes her head. “I tried to get out of it, but you told me not to,” she reminds me.
“I was angry. I’m sorry.” If there’s one thing I can do well, it’s apologize. “Your father was pretty much telling you I’m not good enough for you, and for a minute there, I agreed with him.” This time, it’s me who plays with a rock with my toe. I’m afraid of what I’ll see if I look at her.
“I want to try something with you,” she says quietly. She steps close, so close I can feel her breath against my shirt. It’s warm and moist. My heart starts to thud. “Can I touch you?” she asks. She lays a hand on my stomach.
“Yes, please,” I croak. I clear my throat, and she laughs.
Her other hand comes up to lie beside the first, and then one hand goes east while the other goes west, until her hands wrap around my back. She locks her hands behind me and lays her face against my shirt. She nuzzles her cheek into my left pectoral muscle. “Hug me back,” she says quietly.
I wrap my arms around her, careful to squeeze her soft and slow, calmly and carefully. She exhales heavily, and I rest my chin on top of her head. In that second, I know my heart is hers. I tell myself she’s only taking a little piece, but that’s a f**king lie. She’ll have the whole thing by the time I go back to New York. She undoes me with her simple affection. And I don’t know how to behave, so I just hold her. I hold her and let her breathe while I drink in the feel of her. I want to tip her face up and press my lips to hers, but I’m not sure that would be any more fulfilling than this pregnant silence is. It’s full of possibility. For me, it’s full of longing, and something entirely different for her, probably. I open my eyes and look up. Her mother is standing there with her mouth hanging open. She slams it shut and smiles at me, giving me a thumbs-up. I grin. I can’t help it.