Page 38 of Lessons in Lemonade
“Really?” I’m in complete disbelief but so elated at the same time.
“Yep, really.” One side of his mouth tilts up a little as I let out a sigh.
There’s an edge of vulnerability to him; it’s endearing, and unwarranted. How could he think I wouldn’t want him here? His hand slips up my back and tangles in my hair. I can feel him rolling it between his fingers, and it feels nice.
“Are you staying with me?” I ask hopefully.
“You did say there would always be a room for me at your house.”
“I did.” With that the largest smile breaks free on my face, and he gives me one in return. It’s so beautiful to see him smiling again; it’s almost blinding. “Did you bring Zeus?” I look behind him.
“No. Bryan took him back to Lexi’s a few weeks ago. He’s there running free.” I hear what he’s not saying: it was too hard with him in the condo. I know they used to go for long walks and jogs; poor guy needs his energy expelled on the regular.
“Okay, well, if you decide you want to go get him, he’s welcome here, too.”
“I appreciate that. I did drop by to see him this morning, fill them in on what’s going on. He’s happy there for now, so he gets to stay a little longer.”
“That explains your post.”
“Yeah, I miss the fur beast and wanted to see him.”
“I kind of miss him, too. After all, he does like me more than you.”
Jack laughs, and the hairs on my arms stand up.
“I don’t know about that,” he says defensively.
“Are you hungry? When’s the last time you ate?” Of course my go-to is food. Food is love, and I need to feed him.
Right on cue, his stomach growls, and I grin up at him.
“Well, I guess that answers that question.” I slide my hand over his stomach, his very flat and defined stomach, and it growls again.
“Yeah, I ate a slice of pie this morning at Bryan’s when I dropped by, but that’s it.”
No wonder he’s losing weight. “Then you must sit down and let me feed you.”
Taking a step back, I guide him over to a two-top table and take the crutches as he sits.
“So this is the infamous OBA?” he asks, his gaze leaving me and slowly trailing over the details of the dining room. I try to take it in with fresh eyes, but I’m blinded by pride. I love what I’ve created so much.
Exposed brick walls, wrought iron and crystal chandeliers, high-backed fabric chairs, the wall of honey, the champagne bar in the back, and chunky wooden farm tables. We have an inside dining room and an outside patio that’s filled with herbs and potted vegetables. The restaurant is Southern, shabby but classy, light and airy, and it’s the perfect ambiance for a delicious meal.
“Yep.” I smile at him.
“I know I’ve seen pictures of it online, but it’s so much more in person. It’s bigger than I thought it would be.” I watch as his eyes roam, taking it all in, and I feel exposed, as if his gaze is trailing over me. Stupid, I know, but this restaurant is my life, and here he is looking at it and forming his own opinions. What he thinks shouldn’t really matter, but to me it does.
“I hope that’s a good thing?” I’m seeking clarification.
His eyes come back to find mine then he wraps his hand around my hip and squeezes. “The best thing.”
“Good. Thank you.” He’s made me so sincerely happy I could melt.
Silence again falls over us as we stare at each other. I take in how the last month hasn’t been the kindest to him, and this makes me sad. Unfortunately, it’s so easy to see, and I can’t help but wonder what he sees when he looks at me.
His stomach growls again, breaking the moment, and we both laugh.
“I have the perfect thing. We just made a fresh pot of seafood gumbo, and there’s some cornbread that’ll go spectacularly with it. What would you like to drink? I make a mean iced coffee.” He grimaces, and I remember he tasted it over Thanksgiving. “Oh, that’s right.” I grin. “Forget that. Sweet tea?”
