Look, I get I sound like a kindergarten teacher, but I’m genuinely curious about the woman sitting across from me, even though my request has undoubtedly terrified her.
Kiki fingers her collar and clears her throat, as if the air in the pizzeria has suddenly turned noxious. “You know plenty about me. You heard them today.”
“What I heard was a bunch of garbage from people who need a hobby.” Leaning across the table, I put my finger under her chin and lift her face until her gaze meets mine. “I want to know you, Kiki. Otherwise, I’m not giving you anymore garlic knots.”
To drive home my point, I drag the plate beyond her reach, but not before Theo reaches out to grab one.
My son holds it in both hands, like Gollum guarding his ring.
Yet again, my son’s antics bring out the softer side of Kiki.
“You’re lucky they’re fantastic garlic knots.” She leans against the booth with a sigh. “What do you want to know about me?”
“What is Kiki short for?”
“Katherine.”
“Hmm.” My gaze roves over her delicate features. “You look like a Katherine. You have an old-world beauty about you.”
Shit. I didn’t mean to blurt out that she’s beautiful, although I’m sure the woman has heard it countless times.
Despite everything she’s endured, the woman is a knockout. She’s slight in stature, with long fingers that likely tickled piano keys. Her wide brown eyes sit above an upturned nose and a pair of lips that I now know guard the greatest smile on the planet. Dark hair with a tinge of gold tumbles about her shoulders, swinging when she laughs.
She needs to laugh more.
My job is to figure out how.
Kiki snorts. “Emphasis onold.”
“You are not old.” To be honest, I don’t know Kiki’s age, and I know better than to inquire or dally on the topic. “Have you always been called Kiki?”
“All my life. If we had met six months ago, the moniker would have fit.”
“So I hear.” I down another swallow of beer. “According to the Hammond brothers, you were sunshine mixed with a little hurricane.”
“Spot on descriptor.” Kiki averts her gaze. “I miss her.”
She doesn’t mean for me to hear those words, but here’s what she doesn’t know.
I miss her too, even though I never had the chance to know her.
No idea why I feel this innate protectiveness toward the woman. We aren’t really friends, but there’s something fragile beneath her stoic façade.
It’s the way she holds herself, as if terrified everything will fall apart if she dares to loosen her grip. That beneath the surface she’s broken into a million fragments, held together by sheer tenacity and whatever scraps of faith she has left.
Maybe it’s the carpenter in me wanting to repair the damage. I want to pry off the mask she wears, root out the wounded pieces of her spirit and help her shine again.
She deserves the opportunity.
Or maybe I’m just sticking my nose in her business. But she’s playing along, and that’s half the battle, right?
“Is it my turn?” Kiki asks, sipping her wine.
“The table is yours,” I reply, gesturing over the food.
She pivots in her seat and focuses all her attention on my son. “What’s your favorite subject in school?”
Theo grins, showing off the gap where his front tooth fell out last week. “Dinosaurs.”
