Richard ran his fingertip down the side of her face. “What would you like to do?”
Paris’ stomach churned. This was it. This was when she should tell him she wanted to be more than friends, that she enjoyed spending time with him and Jack, and that she wanted to spend even more time with them.
But her mom’s voice rang in her head, telling her it would end in disaster. All she had to do was count the number of times her heart had been broken to know she was heading in the same direction.
“Paris?”
“I’d like to be your friend.” The whispered words were so far from the truth that it hurt to say them.
Disappointment stole all the joy from Richard’s face. “I’d like to be your friend, too. Let’s get something to eat.”
Paris walked into the kitchen and tried to pretend everything was okay. But it wasn’t and, until she stopped listening to her mom’s voice telling her she wasn’t good enough, it never would be.
Chapter 13
Richard sat in a black plastic chair opposite Peter Bennett, the Chief Executive of BioTech Industries. His company had invented the neural gel prosthetic attached to Richard’s right leg. Each month, as part of the clinical trial process, they met to discuss the effectiveness of the prosthetic. So far, everything had gone better than anyone expected.
“On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the responsiveness of the prosthetic after the last software upgrade?” Peter asked.
“Nine.”
“Why not ten?”
Richard frowned. “You aren’t supposed to question my responses.”
Peter smiled. “I’m the boss, and I’m curious.”
He was also one of the nicest guys Richard had met. If it weren’t for Peter agreeing to add him to the trial group at the last minute, he never would have been given the life-changing prosthetic.
“I didn’t give you a ten because it took three tries to download the software.”
“Everyone in Sapphire Bay was having issues with the Internet when you were doing the upgrade.”
“It made a difference to my user experience.”
Peter looked over the rim of his glasses. “Your expectations have increased since the trial started.”
“So would yours if it was your leg we were assessing.”
“Point taken. How can we improve on your score?”
“Better Internet?”
“I’m working on it. Is there anything else you want to discuss?”
Usually, Richard didn’t have anything to add after the assessment was finished, but today was different. “I’m hoping you can give me some advice.”
Peter closed his laptop and gave him his full attention. “I’ll try.”
He could have asked Ethan, his friend and the town’s family therapist, about what was worrying him. Or he could have asked Pastor John. But, sometimes, he preferred not to dig too deeply into how he felt with his friends.
“This phase has the largest number of amputees. Has anyone mentioned how different wearing the neural gel prosthetics makes them feel?”
“In what way?”
Peter might think he was worrying about nothing, but having his leg blown off had left deep scars that had nothing to do with skin and bone. “In a new relationship kind of way. When I’m wearing the prosthetic, I look and move like everyone else. At some point, I’ll have to show someone my stump. How have other people handled that?”
“I wish I had an easy answer for you, but I don’t. I’m not a counselor, but what I do know is that everyone’s different. It takes a lot of time and trust for some amputees to show people their stump. For others, they’re upfront about their injury.”
