“I’d bring a survival book.”
“Oh yeah?” she questions, her voice laced with amusement.
“Of course. I’d want something to read that could potentially help me get off that island.”
“Is there a book for that?”
“I’m sure if I were to googlehow to survive on a deserted island, something would come up.”
Demi’s laugh makes me smile and I don’t miss her tuck the stray hair back under her hat after it falls on her cheek.
When I look at her, I see a woman with so much strength. So much goddamn beauty, it hurts. And I wish I could tell her that. But something tells me she doesn’t want to hear how strong she is, because I get the feeling she’s tired of having to be.
“Do you want another coffee?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t,” she says, chuckling to herself as she seemingly glances at the time on her phone. “I already have a hard enough time sleeping, I don’t need to add to that.”
Without missing a beat, I ask, “Why do you have a hard time sleeping?”
“Oh, you know…” She trails off, waving her hand in the air.
“I don’t. Enlighten me.”
“Let me guess, you’re one of those people who falls asleep the second your head hits the pillow?”
Not exactly.
“Why can’t you sleep, Dem?” My words feel more direct this time. They hold more curiosity than before.
“Little of this, little of that. I have a lot of baggage.” She sighs heavily on the last word.
My chest tightens at her answer, but whenever I’m around her I feel this urge to be a safety net. Someone she can talk to without judgment or ridicule. “Well…” I sigh. “Lucky for you, I love unpacking.”
She tilts her head in what I think is an attempt to hide a smile, but it’s hard to tell when she returns her face toward mine and looks indifferent.
But then her eyes narrow almost playfully. “It’s highly suspicious that you’re this interested in my sleep.”
Knocking my head back, I let out a rough sigh. It drives me fucking nuts she can’t seem to believe anyone is genuinely interested in her wellbeing. What the hell kind of husband was Nells?
“You have to know by now that I’m interested in anything you want to tell me, Dem. I don’t have stipulations or requirements, nothing is conditional. I want to know everything you want to tell me.”
She breathes in and out, those dark eyes staring at me with uncertainty. I can tell she’s weighing out the options right now. “I just have a hard time sleeping more often than not. It’s nothing.” Her head does a quick little shake back and forth as she clears her throat. “My mind messes with me. I know how stupid that probably sounds to you. But I just have a hard time turning it off.”
“You aren’t alone, you know. Just because my issues might not look the same as yours doesn’t mean I can’t understand and empathize with you. Don’t assume my life is all rainbows and butterflies. Do you actually think I havenoissues? No baggage myself?”
Her brown eyes look anywhere but at me. She fidgets with the coffee stirrer between her fingers and it’s like I can see what she’s referring to at this very second. Without her saying anything, I can see how her mind is spinning, how it’s causing her to spiral and probably overthink this entire conversation and interaction.
“You’re right. That was unfair,” she answers. “Baggage for baggage,” she offers, and I nod. “Why’d you tense up when your dad was mentioned the other day?”
I choke back a cough as that’s the last thing I expect her to ask me. I didn’t even think I made it that obvious about my desire to talk aboutanythingelse.
“Going for the throat right out of the gates, okay.”
Her black nails mindlessly draw circles on the table between us as she stares at me. She never stares at me. At least not like I stare at her, andfuck. I like it. Her attention. Her gaze. Her interest.
“I saw the way you reacted when I brought him up.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “We just have a complicated relationship. That’s the long and short of it.”
