Aiken
She was nervous when she opened the door.
Of course, she was.
She’d lost her husband to another woman.
She’d lost her daughter to a senseless tragedy.
She was six years older than the man sitting next to her.
Someone had advised her to sex it up, and while she hadn’t needed to, I admit it was doing things to me. But that wasn’t the point of tonight or right now…
I reminded myself of all of this as I turned the key in the ignition.
It was my job to put her at ease, allow her to enjoy, get used to the idea of her and me.
“Another good week back in the classroom? You happy?”
She nodded. “I am—I like it. There’s something peaceful about all those overactive minds jumping to conclusions, some right, most wrong. Once, I was like that. Wheels churning a mile a minute, idealistic, with big plans to save the world, make big discoveries.”
“I bet you were a great mom…shit…that slipped out. I mean, I was thinking it, so yeah, I bet you were the best mom.” I couldn’t help but catch her profile out of my peripheral vision.
Her hands wrestled with each other in her lap. “I loved being a mom. I never quite balanced it right. Some days, I’d get caught up at school, busy with the preschool or a grad student’s research project, but I loved Abby. I wanted it all for her. Career, love, two-point-five kids, and a dog. I prayed she’d be happier than me one day.”
“I’m sorry she was taken from you.”
“Yeah—it wasn’t in the cards, or however they say it. It should probably upset me—teaching, all the young kids—but I like it. The formidable, moldable minds. So, this week was good. Really good.”
“Plus, having me next door.”
This got me a laugh and a three-quarters smile.
“I have to admit, it’s sort of cool to have someone who answers me. Smitty’s fabulous company, but every now and again, you want someone to say something back to you. Even if it’s fuck you.”
This time, I laughed.
We made small talk until the restaurant came into view, where we walked, hands tangled, into the restaurant.
“Two.” I flicked two fingers in the air. I’d called earlier in the week, and they’d said not to worry about a reservation.
“Oh, look at the bar. I love that crown molding around the top. Look at the detail.”
Claire’s whole face turned toward the small alcove. The bar was lined with bottles of every color and size, dark mahogany crown molding running around the perimeter.
The hostess interrupted Claire’s reverie. “We serve a full menu there too.”
“Want to sit there?” I asked.
“I’d love to, if you don’t mind?”
Her lashes touched her face and sprang to life again. This woman was all high-class and fucking gorgeous, every man’s fantasy, lush and round where it mattered, smart, all of it.
I bent and whispered in her ear, “My thigh will take any chance it gets to brush up next to yours.”
“We’ll grab some seats at the bar,” I told the hostess, dismissing her from my time with Claire.
“This is perfect.” Claire’s smile was wide and bright.
