My mouth has fallen open, so I close it before speaking. “Hi.”
Kai pulls away from the wall and runs a slow gaze from my head to my slipper-covered feet, and then back up. He meets my eye with a half-smile, and my face flushes red.
“Nice,” he says. “I like those.”
Holy fireflies in my tummy. I try to cover a grin, but the corners of my mouth turn up as I reply. “Thank you. They were nice to both of us,” I say, nodding toward him.
Kai lifts a brow. “They?”
“The um, closet trolls.”
Kai chuckles. “The closet trolls,” he repeats with the shake of his head. “Dang, I’ve missed you.” He says it playfully, residual laughter clinging to the words, but as he looks up at me, his face becomes serious.
The fireflies must have invited their buddies because all I can feel is warmth and flutters and…excitement. And longing too. So much longing.
Traitor Me is gunning for the lead.
“Seriously, Nikki. I really have.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I admit. The heat moves to my chest, planting a level of fear around my heart. Reminding me that I’d promised to guard it.
Kai gives me a soft smile and reaches his hand out. “Let’s see what this whole couples counseling thing is all about.”
His long fingers glide through mine, causing a new thrill to pulse through me. We make our way to a floor table resting on a checkered blanket. A large picnic basket rests alongside.
Kai scrunches his face as he sits on the floor and scoots up to the small table. “This must be for the elves.”
I grin. “It’s a Tea Table. I like them because I prefer sitting on the floor while I study or do crafts.” Since I need something to do besides stare at him, I dig into the picnic basket and set the items on the table.
A to-go box for each of us, which I assume holds the crepes. A can of whipped cream, a container of chocolate syrup, and two cups of hot coffee with lids.
Kai peers into the basket. “Do they have cream in there for you?”
I smile at the way he remembers that detail. Unlike Kai, I never could drink coffee black. Even if it had loads of sugar like his did.
He digs inside to secure a small ramekin holding sugar and cream packets. He retrieves a canister of extra coffee next. “I could get used to this.”
There’s only one thing left in the basket. A small wooden box with note cards stacked inside. I retrieve it, noting that two tabs separate the cards—his and hers.
“You know,” Kai says, motioning to it. “I’m kind of disappointed that the network didn’t personalize our room plaques and paper tabs.Hisandhersis so impersonal.”
“Right, but then they couldn’t use them for the other seasons,” I remind, plucking the instructional note from the envelope attached.
“Feed your bellyandyour soul,” I read aloud. “Go through at least three of these cards. P.S. don’t wimp out. Your days here are numbered, so make them count.”
A rush of adrenaline pushes through me. Don’t wimp out? It’s as if someone used a pair of x-ray glasses to see right into my soul. Hadn’t I only just accused myself of being a wimp by coming up with a rule that, in essence, protected my fragile little ego?
More adrenaline comes as I consider what in heavens name would be written on those cards that might tempt us to wimp out.
“Do you want to go first, or should I?” Kai asks.
I glance up at him over the card. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” I breathe.
Kai reaches over like it’s the simplest thing in the world and pulls a card from his side. His eyes narrow. “Each of you describe what your dating life has been like since you split.”
Kai drops the card onto the table and pries open his carton of food. He proceeds to pull a fork from his folded napkin while he answers. “I’ve dated a few women over the years, but I didn’t get too serious with anyone.” He uses the side of his fork to cut one of the crepes and scoops the bite onto his fork. So much for the chocolate drizzle and whipped cream. “Your turn.”
I mentally digest that tidbit as he takes a bite and reaches for his coffee. He hasn’t gotten serious with anyone. I like that. Perhaps this couples counseling won’t be so hard after all.
