I don’t think she needs one, but I’m strung so tight after the road construction that I might.
I fork over two hundred-dollar bills. “Take it all out to the car,” I tell Daphne. “I’ll drive.”
She stares at me for one more long minute, her brown eyes studying me like she wants to know the catch, like she doesn’t know who I am, like I’ve passed some kind of test that I didn’t know I was taking.
The scrutiny makes my heart beat erratically.
Four days ago, I’d forgotten Daphne even existed.
Today, she eats donuts and shrieks in glee over polar bears and watches me with all of the intelligence she’s hidden—or that I’ve never noticed—and I break out in a sweat over how innately attractive it is to watch someone enjoy the little things in life.
I expect she would’ve been happy simply knowing that brass polar bear existed. That it would’ve made her happy even if I hadn’t bought it for her.
She breaks eye contact, swinging the tote over her shoulder. She tucks the crab into the top of her shirt, grabs the two Landslide drinks, and turns away to head to the car.
I retrieve one of the buckwheat pouches though. “Out in a minute.”
Fuck me.
My voice is hoarse.
My voice is hoarse because my body is having another unwelcome reaction to this woman.
I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away.
There are more important things to think about.
Like that the store has a microwave.
I use it to heat the pouch, and I’m back in control of myself by the time I carry it to the car.
Daphne makes a face at me as I open her door. “You said you’d drive.”
I shove the buckwheat pouch at her. “Put it on your neck.”
She blinks at me slowly like she doesn’t understand, but she takes the pouch and does as she’s told.
I shut her door, cross around the front of the car, and climb into the driver’s seat without remembering to push it back first.
Daphne’s staring at me again, the heating pad laid across her shoulder and neck, the crab sticking up out of the neck of her T-shirt.
She doesn’t say anything.
Again.
And I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.
I hit the button to start the car, grip the steering wheel, realize I’m already gripping it too tightly, and let my hands drop back into my lap. “I’m disappearing.”
“Oh my god, Oliver! No! I can still see you! You’re not disappearing! Don’t go! Don’t go into the ether!”
My lips get into a battle between wanting to huff at her outlandishness, growl and scowl at her, and freaking smile at the same time.
And the smile is winning. Dammit, she’s funny.
“Notliterally, you pain in the ass.”
“Oh. You meant like…” She waves her hand vaguely as if that means something. “From your old life.”
