A part of me refuses to acknowledge that there was more than one reason I was drawn to the poster. I’ll never tell a soul how I confronted Atticus the night of my birthday. How I hurled enraged words at him…how he kissed me, and I melted…
When I return to the kitchen, Tim is making coffee. I sit at the table and he brings me a mug. I take a sip and sigh. “You sure know how to make coffee.”
“You can’t be a policeman without knowing about coffee.” He picks up his own mug, into which he’s stirred a heaping spoonful of sugar, and comes to sit opposite me. “Can I ask you something?” His brown eyes are serious, his clean-shaven face earnest.
“You know you can ask me anything,” I say. He places a hand over mine. It’s warm and familiar, and the gesture is really sweet. His eyes meet mine.
“I promised Steve that I would always take care of you and Austin. But lately, I’ve been… Would you go on date with me?” he asks in a hurry.
I’m flabbergasted. I stare at him for a long moment, trying to decide on an answer. I’ve never felt an attraction to Tim, although he is very good-looking – tall, dark and toned, with kind eyes and a ready smile. He finds his voice first. “I don’t want to dishonor Steve’s memory, but I have feelings for you, Arielle. And I love Austin.”
“Tim,” I say gently, “I’m flattered. Really. I love having you around, and you’re so good with Austin. You’re too important to me – to us – to risk losing you…if things don’t work out.”
“Why wouldn’t they work out?” he asks, a slight edge to his voice. “We’re great together already. There could be so much…more.”
I feel like a complete ass. How do I tell this wonderful guy that he just doesn’t do it for me? I must be the most ungrateful woman on the planet. “I’m not saying that they wouldn’t work out,” I quickly try to reassure him. “You’re such a special person.” His expression hardens. I’m not making things better. “I just…I value you so much I’m afraid to risk losing a friend like you.”
“You won’t be losing a friend, Arielle,” he says softly, his hand still on mine. “You’d be gaining a lover.”
The thought of it settles in the pit of my belly like a rock, and I know I can’t do it. I’ll never feel that way about Tim. But there’s no way I can admit that to him. “I’m sorry,” I say, lamely. “I’ll think about it, okay?” His expression is crestfallen, and I curse myself for hurting this incredible human being, when I know I’d leap at the offer if it had come from another man.
A man who left me standing ashamed in a parking lot.
Chapter 5
Just Like You
Samuel Foster
When I get back to my suite, I’m a bundle of conflicted emotions. The rush of the show combined with the high of ripping off that fat rich asshole are vying for attention with the sense of feeling dirty. I’m like a performing monkey for those jerks. And I hate the way they treat the poorer people around them. Since we’ve been on the tour, I’ve seen scores of homeless folks. As we moved further into the Eastern Bloc, the weather has worsened. The cities are so beautiful, steeped in history and culture that’s almost breathtaking. Yet in the parks, freezing children sit with their hands out. It breaks my heart.
I drop my coat over a chair and sink onto the bed, grateful that housekeeping has cleared away any evidence of the girl who was here earlier. Yet, although I’m glad she’s gone, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of being utterly alone. Traveling on tour may seem exciting and glamorous, but once I’m away from the bustle of the group, I feel hollow. The suite is luxurious, but characterless; it’s not home. I’ve been living out of my suitcase for days. I miss my own space, my own bed, my little Munch…
I kick off my boots and reach for my phone, smiling as I see a couple of messages on the screen. Arielle has sent another picture of Munchkin.
Mr. Munchy is sunbathing,reads the message attached.
He’s stretched out in the sunshine on his favorite spot in the sunroom, and my heart gives a little squeeze. He represents the world to me. Happiness and acceptance. He’s all I’ve had since…since Atticus died.
Without him, I’m alone.
I send off a text thanking Arielle and wait for her reply. I know she’ll answer – she’s special that way. Trustworthy. Attentive. Not like the women who inhabit my world; who gravitate to me because they see a chance of a payout. Not like the girls who hang onto fat assholes who’ll buy them new boobs.
Not like my mother.
My jaw clenches at the memory of the woman who abandoned me. Left her son on the streets because her lover didn’t want someone else’s brat under his roof. Yeah…my life is too full of women like that. It’s safer to simply stay clear of them. Use them when I need it, then back off to where it’s safer.
My phone pings, just as I expected.
It’s a pleasure,Arielle says in response to my thanks.He’s a lovely little guy. I enjoy his company.
I give a sad sigh at her answer. I know she’s widowed…perhaps she’s alone, just like me.
You’re welcome to stay over, if you want. Spend more time with him,I type back, on impulse.
It’s not a live-in position, but maybe she’d appreciate the change of scenery. And more time with Munchkin, some company. At the back of my mind, a little voice sends a warning. I’m not giving her the invitation for her sake…it’s for me. There’s a part of me that loves the idea of going home to Munchkin and Arielle. A part of me that loves the thought of knowing someone is waiting there for me. Just like Atticus did. Her text comes back, and I blink in surprise.
Thanks, that’s a lovely offer, but I have to get home to my son.
