He tried to maintain a balance: acting natural while also making sure the evening wasn’t like their usual ones. No verbal sparring matches. No ruffling of feathers.
He had the huge task of reversing Nora’s first impression, and he knew that wasn’t easily accomplished. He’d made a bad one. But slowly, over the course of the last twenty-four hours, he’d felt a metamorphosis in progress. The way she looked at him wasn’t filled with disdain, but something entirely different. And as she held his gaze beneath the soft glow of the pendant light suspended above their table, he hoped this new look translated to a change in heart too.
Their salads came next. Nora pushed her cherry tomatoes to the edge of her plate with her fork, and J.P. ultimately commandeered them for his own salad once she confessed she wouldn’t be eating them. They traded a few other ingredients: J.P. gave Nora his beets because he’d never been a fan and Nora offered J.P. a handful of croutons because it felt silly to request a third breadbasket refill, but it was clear J.P. was a huge carb fan.
There was an easy cadence to the way they shared their meal and conversation.
They did the same with their entrees, cutting off portions from their steaks and extending their forks across the table because,‘You absolutely have to try this with the demi-glace. It’s amazing.’
They’d ordered a bottle of wine and had each polished off their first glass when something on Nora’s face changed. She was relaxed, full from the meal, and calmed from the time spent together.
“Are you close with your brother?” She lifted her glass, but didn’t sip from it.
J.P. tried to mask the shock from his expression. “My brother?” He took a big swig from his glass. “No. Not at all.”
“Were you when you were little?”
“Not really. My parents got divorced when we were young. I was just a toddler. But Dylan was closer with our dad. He had a relationship with him. I was never interested in one. It kind of placed a wedge between us.”
“That must’ve been difficult. Do you feel like your dad favored your brother?”
J.P. shrugged and swiped his napkin over his mouth, then lowered it to his lap and fiddled with the edge. “He might have, but that never really mattered to me. Even if my dad had reached out and tried to foster some sort of relationship, I wouldn’t have reciprocated.”
“I get that.” Nora pressed her lips to the glass, then pulled back to say, “If my mom had come around wanting to have a relationship with me, I don’t think I would have wanted that.”
J.P. tried not to startle, but he wasn’t sure he did a good job covering his surprise. For some reason, he had assumed Nora’s parents weren’t in the picture because of some tragedy in her childhood. Her mother wasn’t involved because she couldn’t be, not that she had deliberately chosen not to be. His heart squeezed with a familiar pang of emotion.
“Your grandmother…was she your mom’s mother?” He lowered his steak knife and fork to the table to give Nora his full attention.
“She was. My mom was sixteen when she had me.”
J.P. did the quick math. Nora’s grandmother couldn’t have been all that old then, and her passing wasn’t likely due to old age. Something in his chest pinched.
“My grandma raised me from the time I was born. In every way, she was a mother to me. She had a stroke a few years ago and then another a year after that. I thought she could survive anything. She was always so strong. So driven. So invincible.”
J.P.’s hand instinctively came over the table to cover hers. Nora looked up. Her eyes clouded with a sheen of tears, but they didn’t spill down her cheeks.
“I wasn’t ready for her to go, but you know what they say. If you love someone, even if they live to be a hundred, it’s still a day too soon to lose them.”
The only person J.P. had in his life that fit that criteria was his mother. The thought of losing her gripped his lungs, making it difficult to take a full breath. He couldn’t even imagine what a life without her would look like. Like Nora, he’d be left all alone.
“I’m blessed with the many years I got with her,” she continued on. “And I’m so grateful she left me the house. It’s like she’s still taking care of me, still loving me.” She lifted her shoulders and blew out a forceful breath. “Whew. Sorry about all of that.” With her palm shoved to her eyes, she whipped her head back and forth as if to clear out the emotion. “That took a sad turn.”
“It’s okay.” His hand was still in place. He squeezed slightly. “I get it. It’s okay to be sad, Nora.”
“Not on adate.” She forced a little laugh.
“Even on a date,” he corrected. “I’m glad you feel comfortable sharing with me.”
“It’s crazy, but Idofeel comfortable with you.”
He let her hand go. “Is that really so crazy?” He hoped the smile took the edge off his comment.
“It is. For me, at least.” Her arms crossed one on top of the other on the ledge of the table. “Even around Connor, I wasn’t comfortable. On guard. Always waiting to be corrected. And from our first encounter, I figured things would be the same with you.”
“I don’t want to be the same as Connor, Nora. I can only be myself.”
“And I—wrongfully—thought that was an uptight person who had it out for me and my bees.”
