She shakes her head. “It is, and yet…I’ve taken on a cat.”
“You don’t have to do anything to take care of the cat, Maria. I told you I’d help, and this is the best way I know how.”
Her smile is small, warm, grateful, and then she opens her mouth like she’s about to say something and…stops. She closes it again, her fingers linking.
I lean just slightly toward her. “Second thoughts, huh? You and me?”
Her gaze snaps back to mine. “How…” She takes a breath, like she’s weighing her words. “Josh said something…about me being single and you being single…and asked if I thought you were ugly.”
I let out a soft, humorless chuckle, shaking my head. “That’s some brilliant matchmaking logic, right there.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t look away. And in that small, loaded pause, the air between us feels thicker. There’s the echo of the past—what we shouldn’t have done, what we shouldn’t do again.
“We can’t let him?—”
“I know,” I cut in, rubbing at the scruff on my face. “Back at the rink, Josh said something about you not thinking I was ugly. I got the impression he liked the idea of us being together. Like…a couple.”
She exhales sharply, the sound carrying a mix of surprise and worry. “Yeah. I got that too.”
“It’s going to be okay. We’re not going to do or say anything to let him… you… me… anything.” Under my breath, I add, “I’m not what they need.”
“Right,” she says, but I catch it—just for a second—there’s a curious spark in her eyes before she blinks it away. That’s when I know it. I’ve said too much.
We drive in silence for a stretch, each lost in our own thoughts. The quiet hum of the tires on the pavement fills the space between us. Ten minutes later, I pull into my driveway. Maria leans forward, peering at the house with a small whistle.
“Wow. This really is a big house for one person.”
“Two now that I have Marbles,” I reply, a little grin tugging at the corner of my mouth.
I put the car into park, and she unbuckles. “That poor kitten is going to get lost.”
She steps out and heads for the trunk. I follow her and hand her my keys. “Go on inside. I’ll bring in the bags.”
The keys jingle on the ring as she hurries up the walkway and slips through the front door. I follow with the groceries and her overnight bag, my boots echoing lightly against the hardwood floor.
Inside, she’s wandering through the living room, taking in the sparse furniture and bare walls. I set her bag down. “I’ll just put the groceries in the kitchen and then show you upstairs.”
“You have enough bedrooms for all of us?” she asks, tilting her head.
“Plenty. Just a bed, no decorations though.”
“We don’t need much,” she replies with a shrug.
I pause, watching her, and for a moment I think about how much I like that about Maria—how she’s content with the bare minimum. But then my chest tightens. After everything she’s been through, leaving so much of her life, her belongings, behind when she fled with her boys and her mom, she deserves more. I’d like to give her more, but once again, I remind myself, I’m not the guy for this family.
She slowly walks around my living room, her gaze sweeping across the space, and I stand still. Seeing her in my space…I don’t know, it’s oddly comforting. It makes the place feel less lonely. I step toward the kitchen to drop off the groceries, but my steps feel hesitant, like I don’t want to break the spell of her presence.
When I return to the living room, I find her in my library. She’s running her hands along the dark mahogany shelves, eyes wide.
“This is gorgeous,” she says, voice soft with wonder. “This room is bigger than my whole apartment.” She places her hands lightly against her chest, lashes fluttering playfully. “I feel like Belle.”
I can’t resist. “Does that make me the Beast?”
Her grin is mischievous. “If you ask Stella, I’m sure she’d say yes.”
I mock-shiver and laugh as she pulls a chair up to the desk. The room looks like it was made for her, all warm light and the promise of quiet moments. “You need to fill these bookshelves.”
“I don’t have a lot of time to read. I wish I did. I used to love it when I was a kid.”
