“It would have ended whatever we really were before we figured it out.”
I brought her hand to my mouth and pressed my lips against her knuckles. I held them there for just a second.
I lowered our hands, but I didn’t let go. My lips still tingled from the press of her skin.
“You not telling me…” I started, my voice rough. I tried again, softer. “It hurt because I wanted more. Not less. I thought I was being obvious.”
Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Claire, for years, I didn’t let anyone in. I made coffee for one. I cooked for one. I ate alone at the dining room table. I read alone on that chair.” I gestured vaguely toward the door with my free hand. “Then you were here. And I was making coffee for two. Cooking for two. Buying four kinds of milk.”
A short, quiet laugh escaped me. It sounded tired. “I thought I was shouting it. But I guess…”
I watched the realization dawn on her face.
She looked down at our joined hands. “I saw it, eventually,” she whispered. “I just…well after you started to pull away, I figured I had it all wrong.”
She took in a long slow breath. “I’m used to being the one who fixes things for other people. The one who watches other relationships work. I’m usually on the sidelines. I’ve just gotten used to that.”
Her thumb brushed across mine, a nervous, fleeting touch.
Claire’s gaze dropped to our hands, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “And you’re… you. Liam Callahan. You are kind and thoughtful. You’re a terrific cook. You’re easy to be with. And… well… I mean you have a mirror so you have to know what you look like. That morning you came in without a shirt on, I thought my brain was going to short circuit.”
A slow grin spread across my face. It wasn’t just in my head. The attraction was a two-way street.
“Liam, let’s be serious. You could have anyone. It just made more sense that what I was seeing was you being a nice thoughtful guy.”
There it was. Her own wound, laid bare next to mine. She didn’t see herself as someone to be chosen. To be wanted. To be treasured.
I gently cupped her chin, guiding her gaze back to me. I held her gaze, making sure she heard every word. "For ten years, I didn't let anyone in. You made me want to try to be someone who shares his life.”
My thumb stroked her jaw.
I took a breath.
“So, Claire,” I said, my voice a little rough. “Would you go out on a date with me?”
A slow smile spread across her face. She understood the game. “Why, Liam,” she said, her tone playful. “I’d love to. What do you have in mind?”
I leaned in closer, our hands still linked between us. “I don’t know if you know this,” I said, a grin tugging at my mouth. “But I’m an excellent cook.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was laughing. “I might have heard a rumor.”
“I was thinking,” I continued. “Lemon risotto. With asparagus. Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“Sure,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “What time?”
“Six-thirty.”
She nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. “Can I bring anything?”
“Just yourself.”
“Well then,” she said, squeezing my hand before gently pulling hers away. “Let me go finish some last-minute odds and ends for work. I’ll see you at six-fifteen.”
I must have looked surprised.
She stood up, a soft smile on her lips. “I’ll set the table. For our date.”
