It’s more than okay.
I tried to reason with myself most of the night to draw that invisible line in the sand between Silvie and me. But then she was out here waiting, and there’s something about the way she’s vulnerable with it, like this is new for her as well, that hits me right in the chest.
“I’d be happy to walk you home,” I say, voice rough.
“Okay,” she says. “Lead the way, hot bartender.”
I groan at her hot bartender reference and she giggles.
We fall in step together, easy, as if this isn’t new. The streets are quiet now, the sounds of the waves fading the further we get from the bar.
She walks close to me, not touching, but just enough for me to feel her arm swinging near mine. Every nerve in my body lights up at the hint of her presence.
“So, Cal,” she says. “Can I ask you something?”
“Depends,” I tease.
“Why did you say that I was wife material? And what did you mean by that?”
I stumble slightly but recover.
She waits and watches me as we walk for my answer.
I look at her and wonder why she can’t see it. “Silvie, you’re the whole package.”
Her pace slows and she listens.
I glance over and continue, “Your ex was an idiot. He never deserved you.”
She stares and blinks at mewhen I say that.
I stop walking, and she does too, turning to face me. The streetlight and the stars light up her face. Her eyes catch mine and linger.
That’s what hits me, so I continue.
“You listen better than anyone I’ve ever seen. You notice people. And you make them feel validated. You’re like a light in the dark. A rainbow at the end of a storm. You make everyone you come in contact with smile. Even Jonah Black, who is the town grump, by the way. You charmed the man who couldn’t be charmed. I don’t know how you did it, but you did.”
Her breath catches.
“That’s a hell of a compliment,” she says quietly.
“I mean it. I’ve never met anyone like you. And that turd fumbled you bad. I hope you know that. You are wife material. And I hate that they hurt you the way that they did. But I’m glad you didn’t marry him. Because he could never be good enough for you.”
The air between us goes thick, and the energy feels charged. She steps closer. She’s close enough that I can smell the coconut from her shampoo or body wash.
My hands lift, and I put them around her, pulling her into me. My heart beats faster against my ribs. Her lips part in surprise. I could kiss her right now.
Then she exhales, shakes her head once, and gives me a small, sad smile. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me in for a hug. Her arms are tight around me, and mine pull her in just as tight. It practically knocks the air out of my lungs.
She presses her cheek to my chest, and I close my eyes, holding her just long enough to imagine holding her like this as if she were mine.
But she’s not.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“For what?” I ask softly.
“For seeing me,” she says. “And just being my friend. Being kind to me.”
