Spearing one small roast potato with my fork, I gaze up at her. “Why did I bring you coffee?”
“Mhm.” She chews briefly on her lower lip. “No one’s ever done that before.”
“No one has ever bought you coffee?”
“Not at work.”
“Why did you bring me dinner?”
The flame of red at the tip of her ear burns brighter for a moment. “Because I thought it would be a nice thing to do.”
“Exactly.”
“But also to say thank you. Was your coffee a thank you?”
There’s a strange note of suspicion in her eyes, as if she thinks the coffee holds some sort of secret meaning that she’s unhappy about.
It really was just coffee. And if I’m truly honest with myself, maybe it was just to see her smile.
She has a beautiful smile. It always creeps up with a half curl as if she’s nervous to admit something makes her happy, then it blooms into a wide, bright smile that lights up her entire face.
It’s a rare kind of smile but I like to see it, especially after a hard day.
“Do you want my honest answer?”
She nods.
“I heard Jen berating you and decided that starting your day with such negativity was too impactful, so I hoped it would lift your spirits.”
“You heard that?” Her cheeks turn crimson.
Perhaps I was too honest. “I did. Jen has quite the volume when she gets going.”
“I deserved it. I was so late, it was just…” She catches herself suddenly. “You don’t want to hear all about that. Sorry. Please, enjoy your meal.”
“Maybe I do,” I reply calmly.
“Huh?” Her eyes widen and the hand she has on the door tightens. “You… do?”
“Maybe I do,” I affirm. “You decided that for me before I’d had a chance to decide.”
“I…” She hesitates and confusion tightens her features. “I should go.”
“Tell me.” The urge to have her stay for company while I eat is stronger than my disinterest in the lives of the staff here.
Except Snow’s… for some reason. Maybe Fred is right. Life is short and Snow’s the first decent, non-medical conversation I’ve had all day.
“You… want me to tell you why I was late?”
“If you want to.” Forcing her to stay isn’t my desire, but she’s an animated person when she talks. “Company while I eat wouldn’t be terrible.”
Snow frowns. “You have an odd way of asking for things,” she replies. “Your tone makes it sound like you want me to leave while your words sound like you’ll listen if I want to talk.”
“Is that odd?”
She shrugs. “It’s weird.”
“Is it?” Popping another small potato in my mouth, I chew slowly. “The way I see it, I told you company wouldn’t be terrible and I asked you to tell me. But I won’t force you to do either of those things because it’s your choice. My tone is my tone. Sadly, not something I can do anything about.”
