Then she asked, “How about your parents?”
I took a sip of water. “Same. Divorced.”
I flagged down the waiter and asked for the dessert menu.
Autumn cocked her head a little.
“So, your house now,” I asked, “did you grow up there?”
She nodded. “I did. Born and raised there. I mean, my Mom believed in home birth and all. I was born in a tub, but let’s be clear, I didn’t swim out. River otters need lessons, and I was no prodigy.”
I laughed at her remark while she scrunched her nose and did her best otter impression. Hers was cuter than mine, no contest.
But it wasn’t just a joke. Her answer came wrapped in something more than just puckered whiskers and a cheeky grin. It was contentment, the kind most people spend a lifetime searching for. She already had it. You could hear it in her voice and see it in the way her shoulders eased. Home had never been a place she had to escape from.
“When Dad left, it was hard,” she added. “But they figured it out. They still talk, and he visits. They just couldn’t liveunder one roof. It wasn’t anger. Just lives that never quite lined up.” She paused, then added, “Love’s strange like that, isn’t it? Sometimes it works better with space in between.”
That pressed into a spot I usually kept guarded. It was not jealousy, just the ache of knowing I’d never had anything close.
When the dessert menu arrived, I asked, “Wanna split something?”
She tilted her head. “Only if you tell me why you twitched just now.”
So she was watching me, not just my words, but the tells.
I could’ve dodged, made a joke, or pointed out the age gap and played the worldly man card. But the truth pressed too close.
“My parents’ divorce wasn’t amicable,” I said. “Home wasn’t where the heart was. It was where it got torn apart.”
The words just sat there, heavy and blunt.
Autumn reached for my hand and ran her thumb over my knuckles.
“I’ve never known that kind of pain,” she said. “But if love leaves a mark, then hurt does too.”
My throat worked around something that felt like grief and grace. I started with the shallow end.
“My father’s a lawyer too. They call him the Tiger of L.A.”
Her brow lifted. “Because he’s fierce?”
“Because he’s vicious,” I said. “He taught me how to fight. How to win. But never how to stop. Never how to care.” I met her gaze and held it. “I need you to hear this, Autumn. I’m not him. I would never, will never, hurt you.”
Her grip tightened. “You’re your parents’ son, but you’re not the pattern they left behind. Everything you do is you choosing to be better than what you saw. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
The pressure in my chest cracked.
“You make me feel safe,” she added. “Nothing can touch me when I’m near you.”
I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it once. Then, again. I didn’t care if people were watching.
“Take a walk with me?” I asked.
Because if I stayed at that table another second, I might just tell her I love her.
26
DOM
