Our food arrives as I chew on his last words. “Can I get you anything else?” the blonde asks.
“I’m good,” Riley says to her. To me he turns and asks, “Do you have everything you need?”
I stare at the plate with huge eyes and pain in my stomach. “No, thank you, this is perfect.” She excuses herself after that, and I say, “This has to be the most stunning plate of food I’ve ever seen.”
Riley laughs. “It’s diner food, lamb, not a Michelin starred restaurant.”
“Lamb?” I ask. “Why do you call me that?” I don’t wait for him to answer before digging in. I make a humming noise when the food hits my tongue.
“You must be the meekest thing we’ve ever encountered. Don’t worry, though. It’s part of your charm.” Riley chews, eyeing me from time to time as I eat without care of who is watching or why. “The food isn’t going anywhere,” he says, a drop of syrup floating on the edge of his mouth.
I bring my finger up to it, and Riley doesn’t shift away, he lets me wipe it, watching me through narrowed eyes. I lick my finger. “I want it all,” I say, making sure he knows all the meanings of those spoken words.
“I can see that.” He licks his lips and shakes his head with a small smile on his face. “What luck.” We make small talk in between bites and time passes quickly.
I finish before he does and I’m sipping my third cup of coffee. “Riley,” I ask.
He looks over, mouth full. “Yeah,” he says around a bite.
“What exactly does Jesse want from me?”
Gaze flicking back to his plate, he swallows a bite and takes a quick sip of his coffee. He takes it black. No sugar. “He’s an all or nothing kind of guy.” He leans back and exhales noisily. “Time will tell exactly what he wants.”
I want to say I’ll give Jesse whatever he wants if it means I get to have this. This diner, that laugh, his attention, advice, and care, but I don’t. That would be too forward and trusting. Unrealistic expectations are the greatest distraction in a life like mine. “I’m okay with that,” I say instead.
“Are you okay with champagne and orange juice is what I need to know next,” Riley quips. With the disarming smile he’s wearing, there will only ever be one answer from me.
“Yes.” I grin back and his widens.
“Let’s go. It’s my day off and we’re going to do it up good.”
“Yeah?” I ask, feeling excitement ignite my veins, and float my sails. It’s creeping in. That tiny niggling thing that has the power to destroy me. Hope.
He nods. “First to the bookstore to find you a love story, and then to the mall because I’m a sneaker man and I want to buy you some sneakers.”
“Sneakers?” I wrinkle my nose. “You’re serious?”
“You can buy whatever you want, but there will be some sneakers purchased.”
He pays the bill in cash, leaving a huge tip and we’re both laughing as we exit into the day. Riley grabs my hand and I swear to God his sunshine leaks into my body.
Chapter Seven
Drew
Ten hours later, Riley is carrying me into Jesse’s apartment. I don’t remember why I’m laughing, but it doesn’t matter because I’m so fucking happy it’s annihilating my senses. He’s carrying me because I’ve been drinking mimosas all day and employees were mopping the lobby. I told Riley I didn’t want to ruin my new sneakers, but I think he’s carrying me because I can’t stand up straight and the marble was slick. I hiccup, and Riley shakes his head. “You are a cheap drunk.”
The word triggers me immediately. “I’m not a drunk.”
“I know, I know,” Riley says. “I didn’t expect a little champagne to send you to outer space is all I meant by that.” I ended up telling Riley my whole life story. The gross parts I’m embarrassed by, like my grandma, and the happier moments when there were lulls in between the storms of my life. He didn’t make me feel bad about the decisions I made, in fact, it’s like he understood perfectly. I’m at a detriment, though, because I still know little about anything regarding his life. He lets me slide down his hard body until my tiptoes hit the cement after he closes and locks the door. I inhale deeply as my face nears his chest and he notices, because when I look up, his jaw shifts, just once, a movement meant to control himself.
“Where the fuck have you been all day? I called at least fifteen times,” Jesse hisses, and awareness hits me.
“She didn’t have her phone,” Riley tells him. “She left her purse in the car. Today was my treat.”
“Why couldn’t she keep the phone?” Jesse counters. He’s wearing nothing but jeans, and paint is smeared or splashed on his body at random. There’s another huge canvas on the wall, with a face. This time it’s female and there’s hard edges and angry lines instead of the softness from the one he painted before.
Riley gently pushes me toward Jesse, and it throws me off guard. “She’s here now. I had the day off, as you know, so we made the most of it. There’s nothing to be mad about. In fact, if anything, it’s my fault.” He doesn’t apologize. This isn’t worthy of an apology in his book, and I note it.