Page 62 of Life’s Too Short

I gazed back at her steadily. “It’s not. And if you’re that worried, let’s go have it looked at—”

She shook her head quickly.

I could see the fear in her eyes.

I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to watch her sister die the way she did. Having something random like that happen to someone you love must make it difficult to ever feel safe again. And her birthday was Sunday. Her sister and her mom hadn’t made it to thirty. Vanessa was turning twenty-nine. That had to be frightening.

I squeezed her hands tighter. “You’ll just have to take my word for it, then. You’re a beautiful, healthy young woman and you’re going to live for a very long time, Vanessa.” I put a hand on her cheek. “Everything is going to be okay,” I said gently.

Her sad eyes canvassed my face, almost as if they were searching me for the truth. She turned her cheek a little into my palm, like she was chasing the warmth from it, and her lips accidentally grazed my skin.

I wanted to kiss her.

The urge was so intense I had to physically restrain myself from leaning in.

What would it be like? To lean down and kiss away whatever was going on in that beautiful, brilliant head?

But she didn’t want me kissing her. She didn’t want anyone kissing her.

At least there was that.

She reached for her napkin and pressed it under her eyes, and I let my hand fall away from her face, disappointed that the excuse to touch her was over.

“I’m sorry to dump all this on you at work.” She sniffed. “You don’t like me like this. You like me when I’m fun.”

“I like it when you’re happy,” I said honestly. “Fun is just the lucky by-product.”

She changed the subject. “Are you ready for my dad’s tomorrow?” She wiped under her eyes. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I’m going.”

“Are you sure? I know the house really grossed you out.”

I wasn’t particularly excited to spend more time at Vanessa’s dad’s house—or with Vanessa’s dad. The apple had fallen in a completely different orchard with that one. But I wanted to check in and make sure Sonja was doing her job.

And the other thing.

I wouldn’t give up a night with Vanessa. Not for anything.

She was a light that I saw behind my eyelids now, long after I’d stopped looking at it—and I wanted to keep looking at it. All the time. And if that meant I had to have dinner in a hoarded house tomorrow night, then that’s what I was doing.

Vanessa peered at me from where she sat. She was calmer now.

I realized that she’d come here today because showing up to have lunch with me was one of her distractions. One of the things she did to keep her mind off whatever was bothering her.

I wondered how often she did this. How many times she showed up to hang out with me as her way of cheering herself up instead of succumbing to whatever sadness she was battling. She came here because I made her feel better or because she wanted to talk to me about it.

Because she was spinning in a tornado and the only time she feels still is when she’s with me.

And then it occurred to me.

I was her person. Me.

I couldn’t adequately put into words the way this made me feel.

It wasn’t in her DNA to let someone else take care of her. I knew because it wasn’t in mine either. We were the rocks in our family, always putting the needs of everyone else before our own, so I knew what it meant that she let me be there for her.

It was a privilege I didn’t take lightly. An honor to be the one she ran to when she needed someone to catch her. By some random stroke of luck, some geographical coincidence, I got to know her and be something to her.