Page 32 of Bent Out of Shade
9
She was kidding,right? I’d been the good parent when she brought Caleb home. I smoothed down my dress. Of course she was. My darling child loved her dramatic one-liners. I left the bathroom with a wink to my reflection, and sashayed down the stairs, my head held high.
The foyer was empty.
“My intentions?” Laurent said in a pitchy voice.
Sadie, you little shit.I almost broke my ankle jumping the last two stairs and skidding into the living room where my child sat, her back ramrod straight and her arms crossed.
Laurent ran a finger under the collar of his shirt.
“Yo, child, no interrogating my date.”
The wide-eyed look of appeal he sent my way turned to something softer, his lips curving into a sweet smile.
Sadie glanced between the two of us. “Fine.” She hopped up and kissed my cheek. “Have fun, Mom.”
I nodded absently, hearing her clatter up the stairs, but was unable to tear my eyes off Laurent.
He stood up and smoothed a hand over the lapels of his moss green suit that turned his eyes to fiery gems. “You look beautiful, Mitzi.”
I blushed. “Thank you. You look gorgeous.”
His crisp white shirt and narrow black tie popped under a vest in the same moss green as the suit. He didn’t wear socks, just polished black shoes, and to top it off, a black handkerchief was folded into a square in the upper jacket pocket.
“Oh.” He picked up a bouquet from the coffee table and held it out. “These are for you.”
I expected roses, boring but classic. This bouquet was a hodgepodge: some flowers with delicate petals, others that were spiky blossoms, and a sprinkling of fat, bold blooms in a riot of colors.
“You got me wildflowers.” I buried my nose in them.
He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “You like them?”
I pressed my hand to my heart. “They’re perfect.”
The vulnerability in his expression eased. “Good.”
We stared at each other, the air curling around us heavy with unspoken promise.
Then it just became heavy, because what if this date jinxed us? What if Laurent and I worked precisely because we didn’t label things? I mean, the last official date I’d gone on had ended with me killing the dybbuk who’d fully possessed that sweet man. While the bar was ridiculously low, tonight felt like a turning point in our relationship, a new level of emotional intimacy.
The delicate tissue paper around the bouquet was damp from my clammy palms.
Now a solid minute had passed with neither of us speaking, and if Laurent furrowed his brow any more, he’d have a solid line.
My eyes dropped to my feet, the two of us doing nothing except breathing at each other. I shifted my weight, sweat running down my neck. “Let me put these in water and then we can go.”
Nodding, he stepped back, as if to physically release us from the trap we were ensnared in. Better than him gnawing his own paw off.
The night’s still young, Feldman.
I rushed into the kitchen, grabbed the first vase I found, and filled it with water, wiping off the back of my neck with a dish towel. This didn’t feel like a first date. Those were exploratory, casual, getting-to-know-you encounters to suss out compatibility. We already knew each other’s secrets, had exposed our most naked selves to each other, and I trusted him like I did few others.
The pressure suddenly felt too much to bear. Okay, I didn’t have to think of it as a date. Just two people going out for a nice meal. There. I could handle that.
I inhaled my wildflowers one last time, grabbed my clutch, and we were off.
Laurent had brought his truck, the more practical choice given our clothing. However, a small part of me mourned not driving to the restaurant on his motorcycle with my arms wrapped around his body and my chest pressed flush against his back.
