She quickly frowned. “Oh, that’s terrible.”
“And then I went ahead and touched his arm, also without permission.” I sighed, still mad at myself about that. “He doesn’t like to be touched. Not without warning, at least.”
“Oh.” Ro shrugged. “That’s fair enough. No one should touch anyone else without permission.”
“I know,” I said, defeated. “I was just trying to reassure him. I don’t know. It was stupid.”
Bright finished all his bottle, so I wiped his cute little mouth, put him carefully back into the basket, and fixed Merry’s bottle. “Anyway,” I continued. “After we cleared the air on that, by me deciding to play a little game of let’s tell each other what we do and don’t like, he was relaxed again.”
“Until the asexual conversation.”
I nodded, picked up little Merry, and sat back in my seat as he took his bottle. “Yes. Until then. Hewas fine, I thought. He did go a bit red when I mentioned sex, or the lack thereof, being asexual and all. But then he declared we should get work done, which we did. Then when we were almost finished, he shot up, flustered and panicky, and he bolted. Not before stopping long enough to leave his gloves with me in case I didn’t have any.”
“Aww.” She gave me a sad smile. “Do you think the mention of sex was the trigger?”
I’d replayed the entire conversation in my head a hundred times instead of sleeping. “I think so, yeah. But that’s just the point. I don’t want that.”
“But he probably sat there thinking about everything you’d said, thinking about sex, and...” She gave me a pointed look. “Maybe he thought about sex.”
I groaned out a sigh. “It’s such a mess. Maybe I’m not the one he should befriend. I don’t want to upset or confuse him. It’s just... he’s so smart; he can pull facts and random tidbits of information out of nowhere. And he loves peace and quiet, and he loves books. I’ll see him skimming pages and he likes to touch the pages. It’s so adorable.”
“You like him,” she said.
“I do. But...” I sighed again. “It’s complicated. He’s complicated. And I’m so busy right now. It’s got disaster written all over it. And I worry that he’ll get hurt.”
She studied me for a few long seconds. “I don’t think he’s that complicated. I think once you figure out his ebb and flow, you’ll be fine.”
“His ebb and flow?”
She gave me that patient smile that I knew prefixed some pearl of wisdom. “You know the Maori people of New Zealand have a word for autism. Takiwatanga. It meansin their own time and space. I think that’s beautiful.” She patted my shoulder before putting her cup on the sink. “You’ll figure each other out, Win. In your own time and space.”
I got to the store,still thinking about Ro’s words, still thinking about Deacon, still thinking...
The problem was, I did like him.
I liked the quietness about him, the restraint. He was unassuming and unpretentious. There was no ego, no subterfuge. I doubt he’d ever told a lie in his life, and there was much to be said about that.
So yeah, I liked him.
And I could tell myself that a friendship with him would be great—and it would be—I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t want more with him.
I wanted to sit somewhere cozy and read in blissful silence together. I wanted to cuddle on the couch with him and watchPride and Prejudice. I wanted to hold his hand when he got overwhelmed with the world...
And that there was the problem.
That was very likely more than he could offer.
Which was fine. More than fine, actually. Because I certainly had limitations too. It’d be grossly hypocritical of me to blame Deacon for his boundaries in physical expressions of affection when I expected other men to respect mine.
So friendship it was.
And friendship was great. Not to be underestimated or taken for granted. I valued friendship first and foremost. I always had.
My very reasonable brain understood this.
My heart was just a little confused.
“Oh wow,” Ro said, scaring the shit out of me. She was standing in the store, holding two cups of coffee to go, looking around at all the floor space that used to be boxes, looking at all the full shelves and signs. I hadn’t heard her come in.
