She goes back to reading. Turns a page. Casual, like I'm not sitting here coming apart at the seams two feet away from her.
“Can we talk about tonight?”
Her finger pauses mid-page turn. “Okay.”
Her voice is steady, but I know her well enough now to read the tells. The slight stiffness in her shoulders. The way she sets the book down very precisely, like she's buying herself a half second. She's nervous. Trying not to show it.
God, I'm such an asshole.
I push a hand through my hair and take a deep breath.
Words. I need words. They used to be my strength. I built a whole career out of finding the right ones. Right now I've got nothing.
“I, uh…” I clear my throat. “I took certain liberties tonight.”
A giggle escapes her. She claps a hand over her mouth, blue eyes going wide, and that helpless vertigo overcomes me, the kind that knocks me off-balance and reminds me I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to her.
“I'm sorry,” she says, still laughing. “‘Certain liberties?’ Should we discuss my scandalous lack of chaperone and what adastardly scoundrel you've been? One moment you're ogling my ankles, the next, introducing me to forbidden carnal pleasures. For shame, you heartless rogue. How will I ever be a respectable woman now?”
I glower. “Damn it, Sadie. I fucked up, okay?”
The laughter fades. Her clear blue eyes settle on mine.
“How?” she asks. “Because I have to tell you, I had a pretty good time tonight.”
“I shouldn't have done that.”
“Don't you dare say you shouldn't have touched me.” Her voice is firm. “You asked. I said yes. I have no regrets. So why do you?”
“Because… because of this whole situation.”
“Which is what? Two consenting adults, attracted to each other, and acting on it?”
None of this is going the way I expected. I had a whole speech. I rehearsed it while I was wearing a hole in the bedroom floor. It’s completely abandoned me.
“You work for me,” I say, grasping at the very real, very good reasons why her and I together is a terrible idea. “I'm paying you to be here.”
“You’re paying me to look after Jonah. And I can separate the paycheck from the sex.”
That's one objection, struck down. I grasp desperately for another, feeling slightly ashamed of myself for the grasping.
The real reason lives somewhere I don't want to take her. Somewhere too raw and vulnerable.
“I'm older than you,” I point out.
“Twelve years. Not exactly ancient.”
“Not exactly nothing, either.”
I take her hand in mine before I offer the next one. Her fingers are small and soft between mine. I rub my thumb across her knuckles.
“Baby, I've been married. I'm a father. And you've never had a serious relationship. You're a virgin.”
Her look turns guarded. “I'm not defective.”
“I'm not saying that.” And I mean it. I need her to know I mean it. “I'm saying there's an experience gap between us so big it's a fucking chasm. It’s something we have to think about.”
Whatever she sees in my face makes her expression soften.
