Page 222 of When a Soul Cries

She went still.

I didn’t reach across the table. I didn’t crowd her.

I let the words sit between us.

“I’m not asking you to be my woman tonight,” I added. “I’m not asking you to promise me anything.”

Her throat moved as she swallowed.

“I like you. A lot. And I want to keep taking you out, keep getting to know you, and see where it goes.”

Sol studied me for a long moment.

“What if I move to Eastview?”

I shrugged. “Then I drive to Eastview.”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“What if I’m not ready for anything serious?”

“Then nothing gets serious.”

Her fingers moved nervously over the edge of her napkin.

“What if I decide I only want to be friends?”

I leaned back and pretended to consider it.

“I’ll be mad as hell.”

Her eyes widened.

I let a grin break across my face.

“But I’ll respect it.”

Sol laughed quietly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

I placed my hand on the table between us and turned my palm upward.

I didn’t grab her.

I waited.

Sol stared at my hand for a few seconds. Then, slowly, she slid hers into mine.

My fingers closed gently around hers.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “Not for the apartment. Not for the job. Not because you stayed at my house.”

Her eyes grew shiny.

“I need you to understand that.”

“I do.”

I studied her face. “You sure?”