Page 67 of A Lifetime of Afters
Resolved to stick to my routine, I marched into work on Thursday determined to continue familiarizing myself with the different aspects of my job. Enmeshed in pricing, supply lists, and vendors, lunch rolled around without me noticing until Eva from reception knocked on my door with a brown paper bag in her hands.
The smells emanating from the bag made my mouth water.
“Somebody likes you, that’s for sure,” she quipped as she left it on my desk and sailed back out.
My stomach growled. The last bite of food I’d sent down the chute was during yesterday’s afternoon binge fest.
No card. No paper. Nothing.
But inside, a takeaway container from Ayana’s with the same meal I’d eaten when he took me weeks ago.
This message was slightly easier to interpret but I couldn’t be sure unless he spelled it out for me. And I was not ready to ask him. In case his answer killed my hope.
Friday, much to my dismay, passed without incident. With a heavy heart, I opened my door at the end of the day, tossed my purse and coat on the chair, and flopped onto the couch.
Bruce leaped up, walked up my body to stand on my chest, stared down into my face and loudly demanded his dinner.
“You want to eat? Of course, you do,” I murmured. “Let’s go get you some food. In the tiny kitchen, I opened a can while he urged me to go faster. “You hungry, Mr. Willis?” I crooned.
Feeling his head butt me on my thigh, I hurried to get the food into his bowl, knowing what followed the -
“Ouch! Bruce!” I rubbed my ass where he nipped me and quickly put the bowl down on the floor. “Don’t bite Mommy’s bum!” I grumbled. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t speak cat! You’re a monster!”
Pacing around my tiny living room, I pondered the wisdom in texting Hawk. Was it my move? Was there such a thing as moves at our age?
I didn’t want to push him too fast.
I didn’t want to know yet if this was his way of saying goodbye.
The doorbell rang and I whipped around to face it. Moving slowly, instinctively knowing he was on the other side, I opened it without shifting the privacy blinds.
“Hi,” I croaked, my heart in my throat.
He stood on my front step, looking much the same as he did when he woke me in my car. Faded jeans, beanie pulled over his curls, lumber jacket buttoned to the chin, a heavy frown pinned firmly in place.
“I tried to stay away but I visited you every night,” he gruffly confessed.
My mouth fell open. Stepping back, I opened the door wider to invite him in.
“Saw Daire come out of your place on Thursday. Stayed away Friday and Saturday. Didn’t want to see him come out again. Wanted to give you a chance to move on.”
“Nothing happened,” I whispered, wondering why we were standing in the doorway, desperately wanting him to come in.
“You should have the opportunity to move on. I should just let you have that option.” He frowned down at me, his eyes as sad and stormy as I’d ever seen them. “I can’t give you that option.”
“Do you want to come in?” I finally breathed.
Instead of answering, he looked over his shoulder at his truck. “I parked right in front, and I’d like to keep doing that for as long as you’ll let me.”
I backed up, a tremulous smile on my lips, tears balanced on the tightrope of my eyelids.
Pushing me gently backward, his hand splayed over my stomach, he explained further, “Where everyone can see and know we’re together. I want to take you out in town, hold your hand, kiss you whenever I want.”
I nodded vigorously but no words came out.
“Do you want that, Noelle? With me? Because baby,” he cupped my face in his big hands and continued on in a whisper, “I’m a mess and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Are you sure you want to put up with the up and down that being with me is going to entail?”
“Yes,” I croaked. “I’m sure. Always been sure. Always will be sure.”
