must have taken him a while, too.
Tears blurred her eyes, so she leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. She’d apologize in the morning and thank him for the gift.
And try not to dwell too much on the word family.
***
Kevin was shaving the next morning when his phone announced a new text message with a cheerful doorbell tone. Good thing it was out of arm’s reach or he might have smashed it.
Cheerful, he wasn’t.
A few more swipes of the razor and then he rinsed his face. The phone had moved on to a much less cheerful reminder beep by the time he was done patting dry and he flipped the thing open with a curse.
It was from Beth. I’m sorry.
He’d been sorry, too, while trying to maintain his cool finishing off his shift last night. And while he stared at the ceiling instead of sleeping, trying to figure out how he’d managed to screw things up so badly. Not that he thought he was wrong to buy her a cellphone because he wasn’t, but maybe he could have handled it better.
He knew, though, if he’d brought up the subject beforehand, she’d have told him no. She was proud, not that that was a bad thing, and she would have tried to convince him she didn’t need a cellphone. If he’d talked her into admitting she did, she would have bought one herself, probably going without something else in order to afford it.
Smarter, easier and cheaper to add her to his plan. And it might have gone smoother if she hadn’t been so tired and he hadn’t been such a smartass.
Apology accepted. Hungry?
He pulled his shirt on, his mood already improving. In the future, he’d have to remember to walk more softly around Beth’s pride, but they’d be okay. And she was using the phone, which was the most important thing. He wanted her to be able to reach him or anybody else if she ever needed help.
Sure. Fifteen minutes?
He smiled and hit Reply. I could serve you breakfast in bed.
Funny. In the hall, 15 mins.
He was ready, keys in hand, when she stepped out of her apartment, looking as tired as he felt. “Morning, sunshine.”
“Morning.” She closed her door, giving the knob a twist to make sure it was locked. “I’m ready.”
“Where should we go?” he asked as they rode down in the elevator. She seemed awkward with him, but he couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or still pissed off. Either way, he’d tread lightly.
“Someplace quiet…or really loud, I guess. Where we can talk.”
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. “I know just the place.”
He drove her to one of his favorite restaurants—a place he frequented often enough to request a quiet table away from the crowd. She waited until they had their coffee and had ordered before she got down to it.
“I like you, Kevin,” she started, and the little uh-oh voice got louder. There was usually a but after an opening like that. “But it’s like you’re pretending we’re a couple and we’re not.”
“We could be.” No sense in denying he wanted it.
“I told you when I moved into your building the personal aspect of our relationship is over and I thought I explained why, but you either don’t understand or you don’t respect what I was trying to say.”
“You said I’m overwhelming and suffocating which, quite frankly, offends me. There’s a big difference between taking over somebody’s life and helping a friend—and my unborn child—move out of an unsafe apartment.”
She looked miserable, but he felt pretty miserable, too. They needed to talk through this so they could move the hell on. And by moving on, he meant her accepting that the Kowalskis didn’t go through anything alone or want for anything they needed and she was close enough to a Kowalski to count. There were a whole bunch of people waiting for opportunities to give her gifts and do things to help her out.
After taking a sip of her coffee, she stared down into the mug. “It would be so easy to let you take care of me.”
“Then let me.”
“I
Tears blurred her eyes, so she leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes. She’d apologize in the morning and thank him for the gift.
And try not to dwell too much on the word family.
***
Kevin was shaving the next morning when his phone announced a new text message with a cheerful doorbell tone. Good thing it was out of arm’s reach or he might have smashed it.
Cheerful, he wasn’t.
A few more swipes of the razor and then he rinsed his face. The phone had moved on to a much less cheerful reminder beep by the time he was done patting dry and he flipped the thing open with a curse.
It was from Beth. I’m sorry.
He’d been sorry, too, while trying to maintain his cool finishing off his shift last night. And while he stared at the ceiling instead of sleeping, trying to figure out how he’d managed to screw things up so badly. Not that he thought he was wrong to buy her a cellphone because he wasn’t, but maybe he could have handled it better.
He knew, though, if he’d brought up the subject beforehand, she’d have told him no. She was proud, not that that was a bad thing, and she would have tried to convince him she didn’t need a cellphone. If he’d talked her into admitting she did, she would have bought one herself, probably going without something else in order to afford it.
Smarter, easier and cheaper to add her to his plan. And it might have gone smoother if she hadn’t been so tired and he hadn’t been such a smartass.
Apology accepted. Hungry?
He pulled his shirt on, his mood already improving. In the future, he’d have to remember to walk more softly around Beth’s pride, but they’d be okay. And she was using the phone, which was the most important thing. He wanted her to be able to reach him or anybody else if she ever needed help.
Sure. Fifteen minutes?
He smiled and hit Reply. I could serve you breakfast in bed.
Funny. In the hall, 15 mins.
He was ready, keys in hand, when she stepped out of her apartment, looking as tired as he felt. “Morning, sunshine.”
“Morning.” She closed her door, giving the knob a twist to make sure it was locked. “I’m ready.”
“Where should we go?” he asked as they rode down in the elevator. She seemed awkward with him, but he couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or still pissed off. Either way, he’d tread lightly.
“Someplace quiet…or really loud, I guess. Where we can talk.”
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. “I know just the place.”
He drove her to one of his favorite restaurants—a place he frequented often enough to request a quiet table away from the crowd. She waited until they had their coffee and had ordered before she got down to it.
“I like you, Kevin,” she started, and the little uh-oh voice got louder. There was usually a but after an opening like that. “But it’s like you’re pretending we’re a couple and we’re not.”
“We could be.” No sense in denying he wanted it.
“I told you when I moved into your building the personal aspect of our relationship is over and I thought I explained why, but you either don’t understand or you don’t respect what I was trying to say.”
“You said I’m overwhelming and suffocating which, quite frankly, offends me. There’s a big difference between taking over somebody’s life and helping a friend—and my unborn child—move out of an unsafe apartment.”
She looked miserable, but he felt pretty miserable, too. They needed to talk through this so they could move the hell on. And by moving on, he meant her accepting that the Kowalskis didn’t go through anything alone or want for anything they needed and she was close enough to a Kowalski to count. There were a whole bunch of people waiting for opportunities to give her gifts and do things to help her out.
After taking a sip of her coffee, she stared down into the mug. “It would be so easy to let you take care of me.”
“Then let me.”
“I
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