I nod and cradle her face, pushing her straightened hair behind her ears. She smiles, tears overflowing at the corners of her eyes, and I press my thumbs into her dimples. “It is.”
“Christian, this is…” She takes a shaky breath.
I wipe away tears with my thumb. “Come, let’s eat.”
I take her hand and lead her to the corner of the diner. Lana slides into her regular side of the booth, removing her small, crossbody purse with leather that is cracked and faded, before I slip in across from her.
“So,” she says, “is this a fixed menu situation?”
“It is,” I tell her. “I was sure to pick everything you like.”
Lana’s eyes brighten as she grins. “Even mozzarella sticks?”
I smile back at her. “Especiallymozzarella sticks.”
Crystal, one of Katherine’s employees, comes to the table with the mozzarella sticks in hand while holding the bottle of wine I bought for Lana with a glass.
“You’re appetizers,” Crystal says, smiling. Then she sets down the bottle of wine and the glass. Lana stammers and blinks as Crystal pops out the cork.
“Oh, um.” Lana shakes her hand and her head. “No, no. No, it’s fine. No al— No wine. It’s fine?—”
“Baby,” I breathe, reaching for her hand. “It’s okay. I got it for you. I know you like that one.”
“But—”
“It’sokay,” I assure her again, squeezing her hand for emphasis. “I’m fine.”
Chewing on her lip, she nods, and Crystal pours the white wine into the glass. She sets it down in front of Lana with the bottle beside her. On her side of the table. I have no room to be offended or read into it. I trust myself, Lana trusts me—but the distance means something, right?
The distance between me and that bottle of wine. The bridge grows in miles every day and it’s one I don’t ever want to cross again. Tonight, I feel in control. Before Lana takes a sip, she grabs the bottle and sets it at the other end of the table, against the window.
“I see your thoughts, Christian,” she says. “I trust you.”
“I… Thank you,” I murmur. “The distance is better.”
“The distance ismetaphorical,” Lana emphasizes. “You hold the power. It doesn’t hold power over you.”
I nod and bring her knuckles to my lips. Against her hand, I mutter, “Thank you.”
Lana twists her hand and puts it against my cheek with the most precious smile on her face, giving me those dimples. “I love this.”
“I knew you would.”
“I never needed you to give me money or spend it on me, you know,” Lana says. “But this…”
I arch a brow, the corner of my lips lifting. “This you’ll allow?”
“This I’ll allow,” she chuckles. “But seriously, Christian. I loved you without the car and money and the stupid company. And if we had had only a penny to our names, I would have loved you still.”
“You loved me while I was bleeding,” I barely whisper, mythroat tight and dry. “You held me together for so long, Lana. I don’t deserve you.”
“Stop,” she says. “Yes, you do, baby. You deserve a lot more than you think.”
I lean into her palm and turn to kiss it, my lips lingering in its center. I grab her other hand, and kiss its palm too. I press her palms into my cheeks. The two very hands that have held my heart since the day I met her on the sidewalk.
“So what’s for dinner?”
I smile.
