I snort. “Watching me eat?”
“Yes. And your company.” The tip of his index finger grazes mine. I swallow my bite, waiting for any hint about what’s going on in his head. No such luck. “Do you know what type of stroller you want to buy today?”
Baby talk. Safe. He’s present and involved. What more could I ask? The thing is, ever since the kiss, I can’t help but question if there was no baby and we still bumped into each other at his brother’s wedding, what would’ve happened?
Resisting the urge to pull my hand onto my lap, I shake those thoughts away. “My sister gave me a few recommendations. We shouldn’t be too long if you have somewhere to be. I know it’s your day off.”
“No plans. Just this.” His gaze lowers to where his finger traces a slow path over my knuckle. “What you said the other night, it really stuck with me. I wanted to?—”
“One Cacio e Pepe, and one vegetable risotto.”
The arrival of our food interrupts whatever Warren was saying. Once the server leaves, he doesn’t continue, leaving me guessing as we eat in silence. Did I overstep? I was half asleep when I told him to take what he deserves. It doesn’t make it any less true, and I stand by my statement, even if it’s forged a barricade between us.
He doesn’t have to be happy with me. He should justbehappy.
We eat quickly, not wanting to miss the appointment at the baby store across the street. We argue over who pays the check and then find ourselves back outside in the March afternoon, the breeze warm as spring teases the air.
“Thanks for feeding me.” I glance at my watch. “We have a few minutes to spare. Do you want to grab a coffee?”
I move toward the pedestrian crossing when a warm hand locks gently around my wrist. My gaze snaps up to Warren’s, who can’t decide if he wants to look at me or the sidewalk.
“Everything okay?” I ask warily.
“Um, yeah.” His lips corkscrew as he thinks, a shyness to his tone. “I had a lot more to say, but it’s escaped me.”
“If it’s about the other night, you don’t have to say anything. I understand.” I offer him a smile.
Warren’s fingers flex against my skin, as if he’s playing the piano. “I don’t think you do understand, and putting it into words is proving more difficult than I expected.”
“Can you show me?”
His flitting eyes finally lock with mine, and I shift on my feet at his sudden, unwavering attention. He shifts closer, dropping my wrist, only to weaveour fingers.
The air stills. The only sound is the blood roaring in my ears as Warren raises our intertwined hands and presses his lips to my knuckles. “This is me moving forward.”
Words prove impossible.
Another kiss. “You’re right. I’m scared, and fear has kept me stationary for too long. I’m tired of it. I’m still not sure I’m deserving of whatever you have to offer, but if you’re willing to try with me, I’ll take whatever you’ll give.” His voice softens, barely audible over the passing traffic. “I only ask you to be patient with me. There’s a lot I’m still trying to unpack after my marriage. Shit I’m trying to work through.”
He spreads his palm wide across my belly. “You’re the two most important people in my life, and that scares the life out of me. Which is why I know I’m heading in the right direction for once, because I’ve never wanted anything more.”
My bottom lip wobbles. I’m completely sideswiped by his confession. “I don’t want to rush this either, but I do want us to stop hiding from our feelings. I’m happy with whatever pace you set.” Pushing up on my tiptoes until our faces hover millimeters apart, I whisper, “I want to move forward too. With you.”
Relief pulses from him. Whatever tension he held evaporates. “If we weren’t on the side of a busy intersection, I’d kiss you something fierce right now, sweetheart.”
My blood hums a happy melody. “All good things come to those who wait.”
FORTY-ONE
WARREN
Everyone’s perceptionof perfection varies. It’s a sliding scale. It could be a beautiful sunset over the Mediterranean ocean or not hitting a single red light on your commute to work.
Perfection for me is Harriet’s hand in mine.
Any other comparison is wrong. Screw objectiveness.
Thank god Harriet researched strollers beforehand and knew exactly what she wanted. I was no help, completely absorbed in the way her soft skin felt against my callused palms. We leave the store with a stroller secured and Harriet’s hand securely woven with mine.
