For a second, he just stares at the dog, then back at me—and then he laughs, a deep, genuine sound that makes my chest ache. “You let me make a fool of myself this long?”
Mrs. D wipes at her eyes. “Oh, my handsome man, we were enjoying it too much to stop you.”
He shakes his head, still smiling, and turns to her. “Then you are?”
“Ruth,” she says, shaking his hand. “But you can call me Mrs. D. Everyone does. And I have to say, young man, I approve.”
“Glad to hear it,” he replies easily, that smooth, confident tone slipping back into place. Then his eyes find mine. “I missed you.”
The words hit like a spark. He steps closer, holding out one of the bags. “I figured if your lunch habits are anything like your breakfast ones, you’d skip it. So I brought food.”
The warmth that floods my chest has nothing to do with the bag of sandwiches. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” he says simply.
He glances around, finally taking in the papers covering every table, chair, and inch of counter space. “So… what’s all this?”
I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious. “I was talking to Mrs. D about maybe starting a nonprofit. Something to help single moms get back on their feet.”
He steps closer, scanning the mess of notes. “You did all this today?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “It’s just ideas right now. Probably dumb.”
Langston shakes his head. “Not dumb.”
He reaches out, brushing his fingers along my cheek, his thumb catching a strand of hair. “You’re brilliant, Sabrina. And I’ll help in any way I can.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. He says it so easily, like supporting me isn’t even a question.
Before I can answer, his phone rings. He sighs, glancing at the screen. “It’s Jack.”
He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “I have to take this. But I’ll see you tonight. And, sweetheart—”
I lift a brow. “Yes?”
He grins. “Don’t forget to pack.”
I roll my eyes. “We’ll see.”
He laughs, says goodbye to Mrs. D, and disappears out the door.
The second it closes, Mrs. D fans herself dramatically. “Good Lord, that man. If I were fifty years younger…”
“Mrs. D!” I choke on a laugh.
She smirks. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not thinking it too. He’s hot, he’s polite, and he brings you food? That’s a keeper.”
I try—and fail—not to smile.
She tilts her head, eyes narrowing knowingly. “You’re not going to pack, are you?”
I bite my lip, fighting a grin, and slowly shake my head.
Mrs. D throws her head back and laughs. “Oh, honey. You're in for it tonight.”
Try Me
Langston
