“Is it working?” I stepped closer, quirking a brow.
She exhaled a long gust of air and chuckled.
“You’re the only man I’ve ever met who can do that,” she said, pointing a finger at my face.
“What?”
“You can lift just one brow. I write that move all the time, but you’re the first one I’ve ever known who can pull it off.”
“Is that so?” I said, a smile racing across my mouth when I spotted hers.
“Even with a little swagger too.” She laughed, shaking her head. “If you’re up for a walk, there is a good coffee place by the water near Domino Park. It’s about twenty minutes from here, but it’s worth it. The bridge is pretty at night.”
“That sounds fine to me.” I tipped my chin toward the street. “You can lead the way.”
“Sure, why not,” she whispered as she stepped in front of me.
“How far is your place from here?” I asked as we strolled along the sidewalks and some cobblestoned blocks.
“Not too far. I live in Park Slope. It’s a nice family neighborhood. The brownstone belonged to my grandmother, and she left it to me when she passed away. It was a godsend not to have to pay for anything past utilities, or else we would have been out on the street after she was gone.”
“You both lived with her?” I asked. “You and your sister, I mean.”
“No, just my mother and me. This was pre-Taylor. I wish my sister had known our grandmother.” She exhaled a long breath. “I’m basically the only responsible parent she’s ever known.”
More shame gnawed at my gut as I remembered our old house in the Bronx and the one we’d lived in when my parents moved us out of the city. All I’d had to worry about was what time to be at practice, not if I would have a place to live.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
The closer we came to the water, the more the wind picked up. Twenty minutes went by quickly as we talked about everything and nothing—managing to avoid anything too personal or details that we could look up later, which I couldn’t, despite the already crippling temptation to continue whatever we were starting now.
It was a warmer than usual March day, but as the sun set, the chill in the air was a big reminder that it was still winter, despite the men in shorts we passed as we entered the tiny coffee shop.
“Everyone has something, right?” She glanced over at me, a sweet smile curving the pretty mouth I hadn’t been able to look away from all damn night. “My sister and I are doing okay. My grandmother gave me a sense of security growing up, so I try to do the same for Taylor.”
“What’s she like?” I asked. The small shop was crowded, all the chairs and tables taken as we stepped into a long line. I didn’t mind the wait, as my time with this woman was dwindling. I wanted to know as much as I could about her until it ended.
“My sister?” She scrunched up her nose as she turned to me. “She’s a young thirteen, meaning that she hasn’t gotten rid of all her stuffed animals yet. Although they call them plushies now so it sounds cooler.” A wistful smile curved her lips. “She’s a good kid. A little sensitive, which I worry about, but she has a nice little cluster of friends. She loves her namesake, and for her birthday, I gave her aTaylor’s Versionneon sign for herroom. Her name was the one good thing our mother gave her, I suppose.”
Her eyes came back to mine as the line inched forward.
“Why aren’t you close with your brother?”
“I tried, but since we were kids, he’s never liked me all that much.” I shrugged, stuffing my hands inside the pockets of my dress pants, when a sudden urge to hold Rachel’s hand made my fingertips tingle. I cleared my throat, not wanting to ponder what that was about. This whole night was weird yet too comfortable.
“He’s older,” I continued, “and he was smart enough to excel but didn’t want to be bothered. So, when I did?—”
“He was jealous,” Rachel finished for me.
I nodded, lifting a shoulder. Baseball had always been a huge part of my life and how I’d received a scholarship for college, but my brother had hated going to my games. I had always wished he could just be happy for me, but my parents had tried to assure me that the way he’d acted was because he wasn’t happy with himself. After we’d both moved out, I’d stopped trying to create a brotherly bond that was never there.
“I can’t see anyone not liking you.” She shook her head. “I mean, you’re kind and considerate enough to have dinner with the random woman who punched you and then ask her for coffee afterward. I really don’t think you’re some secret prick.”
I barked out a laugh. “I’d like to think I’m not, thank you.”
“His loss,” she whispered, with a beautiful smile that made it even harder not to reach out and touch her.
She motioned to the menu board behind the counter. “Get whatever you like. I order the oat milk hazelnut latte, and it always kills.” She shot me a wry grin. “My sister likes the chai. I limit her coffee, even though she insists all her friends drink espresso.” She gave me a playful eye roll.
