I looked down at my arms, now decorated with several small bandages, then back up at him. He was still sitting close, close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
I should leave, I thought.I know I should leave.
I had at least another hour of deliveries to finish before I could call it a day.
But I found myself lingering, leaning back in my chair despite the irritation from all the scratches, then eventually migrating to the doorway where I could lean against the frame and watch Debbie twirl around the living room while Theo tidied up the first aid supplies.
I didn’t want to leave.
Who would want to leave a warm, comfortable house that smelled like Tide and crayons and something indefinably homey? Theo’s easy domesticity that felt like something I’d been searching for without even knowing it?
“You should stay for dinner,” Theo said suddenly, as though he’d been reading my mind. “It’s just spaghetti, but Debbie makes excellent pasta sauce, by which I mean she dumps an entire jar of Prego into a pot and declares it ‘fancy.’”
The offer was so tempting it physically hurt to decline.
“I . . . I can’t,” I said reluctantly, checking my watch. “I’ve got at least six more stops before I’m done, and my supervisor gets cranky if we run too far behind schedule.”
Theo shrugged it off with another of his lopsided grins. “Rain check?”
“Definitely. Actually . . .” I pushed off from the doorframe, an idea forming. “What are you doing Saturday?”
His face brightened. “Nothing that can’t be solved with a babysitter.”
“There’s this little café downtown that’s supposed to have the best brunch in town. I’ve never been there, but they say it’s very kid-friendly if you want to bring Debbie, or . . .” I hesitated, not sure if I was overstepping.
“Just us sounds perfect,” he said, and something in his voice made my chest tighten. “I’ll have a solid babysitter plan this time, one that won’t flake out.”
“Pick you up at noon?”
His brows rose. “An old-fashioned gentleman. How could I refuse?”
We stood looking at each other for a moment, and I felt the familiar pull, the desire to step closer, to touch him, to kiss him properly this time without the surprise factor and panicked flight that had characterized our last attempt. Instead, I brushed my hair back—a nervous habit I’d developed around Theo—and shifted my weight from one foot to the other.
“I should go,” I said, though every part of me was screaming to stay.
“Drive safe,” he said softly. “And thank you. For everything.”
I cocked my head, and he snorted.
“What?”
“That’s the same thing Cuddles does when she’s confused.”
I growled.
A laugh flew out. “She does that, too.”
“Fine,” I said, feigning annoyance and failing to hide my own broadening grin. I wanted to kiss him so badly it was like a physical ache in my chest. Instead, I gave him what I hoped was a meaningful look and turned.
“Bye, Willie Wee!” Debbie called from the living room, where she was now arranging her stuffed animals in what appeared to be a royal court. “Come back soon!”
“I will, princess.”
Her giggle followed me all the way to my truck. I managed to resist the urge to look back—until I opened the door to my truck. They were both standing in the doorway—Theo with his arms crossed, still smiling, and Debbie waving enthusiastically with both hands, her tiara now completely sideways, clinging to her ear lest it tumble to the ground.
The sight of them together, framed in the warm light of the doorway, hit me like a punch to the chest.
This was real.
