not talk about this now.”
“No, we have to!” The urgency overtook my tears. I needed to say what was on my mind. “It’s breaking my heart to have you acting so—so cold toward me. I can’t stand it.”
His gaze dropped to his hands, still clutching my socks. “Please not now. I’m really not ready to talk about this yet. You were right, okay? And it didn’t work out between us. I don’t want to rehash it, I’d rather move on. Okay?”
“So you and Marcy…?”
“Stop bringing her up, Tess. It’s over with Marcy. That’s done now.” He shook his head, looking at the blank television screen to avoid my gaze. “Just leave it be.”
“I think everything worked out the way it was supposed to, Christian,” I touched his cheek, smoothing my hand across his unshaven skin. Our eyes locked and I lingered too long, his face in my hand. He looked tired and sad, now that the anger was gone, and I finally saw what he’d been hiding. He was truly heartbroken. I wanted to fix it, to be the solution for once, not just the temporary bandage. It was all right there in front of me, staring me in the face. Overcome, I leaned forward, closed my eyes.
“Tessie.” I snapped my eyes open at the sound of his voice and righted my posture. Christian sat still, staring at me, but the pain in his eyes seemed to have multiplied. “I can’t.”
I closed my eyes, nodded once, and then headed for the kitchen. Stupid, stupid. I listened to the television turn on, the Red Sox crowd cheering wildly. I busied myself with dishes and leftovers, the mundane tasks distracting me from the grievous error I’d almost committed. I flipped through a stack of Kendra’s cookbooks for a while, just letting him be for a good hour or so.
When I could stand to face him again, I traipsed into the living room and sat on the other couch. “So, are you going to teach me about this stupid sport or what?”
Just like that, we put it behind us and moved forward. I expected that night would become one of the many we just never mentioned again. Mostly, though, I was just relieved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mr. Antonio gave Christian so much guff for missing a coffee date that I didn’t have to say a word. I just sat back and listened to him opine the importance of friendship and commitment.
“The lady, she a-wait for you, eh? And she tap-a the fingers for one half-hour! Tap-a, tap-a. She drive-a me crazy when you a-not here!”
Christian gave Mr. Antonio his full attention throughout the rant, saving his chuckles until we were alone at our table again.
“Well, Tess, I guess that’s the last time I skip out on you.” I resisted the urge to say You’re damn straight it is and just nodded. “Or you and your kamikaze tactics. If you hadn’t pitched yourself head first down a staircase, I might’ve stayed upset with you.”
“Well, thank God for that.” My voice sounded as flat as it felt. I watched him process my tone and choose to ignore it.
He straightened up, a fake smile on his lips, and looked at me expectantly. “So what’s new?”
“Aside from the fact that my best friend now finds it necessary to make small talk?”
“Come on, Tessie.” He tipped back his mug for a gulp of coffee, still burning hot. I was often amazed that he had any taste buds left in his mouth with all the boiling hot food and beverage he put in it. “Let’s not make this weird.”
“How shall we make it, then?” I didn’t want to sound so bitchy, but I couldn’t help it. I tried to smile to cover up for it, but the attempt was as substantially masking as saran wrap on leftovers. Sure, everything looked all glossy and shiny, but underneath it there were still dead chicken parts.
Christian reached across the table and took my hand. Sweaty from the coffee mug, his palm warmed my own, still chilled from spring’s mind-game temperatures. “I
“No, we have to!” The urgency overtook my tears. I needed to say what was on my mind. “It’s breaking my heart to have you acting so—so cold toward me. I can’t stand it.”
His gaze dropped to his hands, still clutching my socks. “Please not now. I’m really not ready to talk about this yet. You were right, okay? And it didn’t work out between us. I don’t want to rehash it, I’d rather move on. Okay?”
“So you and Marcy…?”
“Stop bringing her up, Tess. It’s over with Marcy. That’s done now.” He shook his head, looking at the blank television screen to avoid my gaze. “Just leave it be.”
“I think everything worked out the way it was supposed to, Christian,” I touched his cheek, smoothing my hand across his unshaven skin. Our eyes locked and I lingered too long, his face in my hand. He looked tired and sad, now that the anger was gone, and I finally saw what he’d been hiding. He was truly heartbroken. I wanted to fix it, to be the solution for once, not just the temporary bandage. It was all right there in front of me, staring me in the face. Overcome, I leaned forward, closed my eyes.
“Tessie.” I snapped my eyes open at the sound of his voice and righted my posture. Christian sat still, staring at me, but the pain in his eyes seemed to have multiplied. “I can’t.”
I closed my eyes, nodded once, and then headed for the kitchen. Stupid, stupid. I listened to the television turn on, the Red Sox crowd cheering wildly. I busied myself with dishes and leftovers, the mundane tasks distracting me from the grievous error I’d almost committed. I flipped through a stack of Kendra’s cookbooks for a while, just letting him be for a good hour or so.
When I could stand to face him again, I traipsed into the living room and sat on the other couch. “So, are you going to teach me about this stupid sport or what?”
Just like that, we put it behind us and moved forward. I expected that night would become one of the many we just never mentioned again. Mostly, though, I was just relieved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mr. Antonio gave Christian so much guff for missing a coffee date that I didn’t have to say a word. I just sat back and listened to him opine the importance of friendship and commitment.
“The lady, she a-wait for you, eh? And she tap-a the fingers for one half-hour! Tap-a, tap-a. She drive-a me crazy when you a-not here!”
Christian gave Mr. Antonio his full attention throughout the rant, saving his chuckles until we were alone at our table again.
“Well, Tess, I guess that’s the last time I skip out on you.” I resisted the urge to say You’re damn straight it is and just nodded. “Or you and your kamikaze tactics. If you hadn’t pitched yourself head first down a staircase, I might’ve stayed upset with you.”
“Well, thank God for that.” My voice sounded as flat as it felt. I watched him process my tone and choose to ignore it.
He straightened up, a fake smile on his lips, and looked at me expectantly. “So what’s new?”
“Aside from the fact that my best friend now finds it necessary to make small talk?”
“Come on, Tessie.” He tipped back his mug for a gulp of coffee, still burning hot. I was often amazed that he had any taste buds left in his mouth with all the boiling hot food and beverage he put in it. “Let’s not make this weird.”
“How shall we make it, then?” I didn’t want to sound so bitchy, but I couldn’t help it. I tried to smile to cover up for it, but the attempt was as substantially masking as saran wrap on leftovers. Sure, everything looked all glossy and shiny, but underneath it there were still dead chicken parts.
Christian reached across the table and took my hand. Sweaty from the coffee mug, his palm warmed my own, still chilled from spring’s mind-game temperatures. “I
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