“I have no idea how to respond to that. Nobody has ever told me I make them hot and bothered before, and I honestly don't know whether to slap you or kiss you,” she huffs with a little smile.
“I would very much prefer the latter if I get any say.”
She shakes her head. “You're absolutely shameless.”
I can't help but laugh. “That may be, but it's even more shameful that no one has ever said that to you before. Also, are you British? You almost sounded like it when you said getting each other hot and bothered won't be a problem.”
Now she looks startled, and a little embarrassed. She sighs though and looks at me. “Sorry, I fall into it sometimes without thinking or when I'm nervous. I'm not British, but one of my favorite relatives growing up was. My great Aunt Jean. My Nonna's brother was stationed in England during World War II, and she was his nurse when he got incredibly sick. They fell madly in love, and he brought his English rose home with him after the war.” Her smile is far away, remembering her great Aunt with so much fondness it stirs something in my chest. She continues after she looks at me, as if making sure I'm not bored. “The romance of it all just made me melt. I worshipped her. When I was little I could listen to her talk for hours and ended up mimicking her like a parrot.” She shrugs then. “It's always stuck. I love British TV and movies, too. I can't even tell you how many times I've watched the 1995 mini series version of Pride and Prejudice.”
“It was Colin Firth in that wet shirt, wasn't it?” I tease.
She laughs a full laugh, head thrown back and everything. “Anyone attracted to men lives for that scene. I saw it years after it came out, when I was a teenager. It was my awakening.” She looks at me again then. “You must think I'm completely bizarre,” she says ruefully.
“It's no more bizarre than my big brother wanting to be the next Michael Flatley from Riverdance, and then getting me into Irish dance too when I was old enough,” I tell her.
“I love that! I was obsessed with Riverdance when itcame out, too. I need to see your Irish dancing sometime,” she says with a smile.
We lapse into a comfortable silence as we amble around and check out more stalls. I grab a bunch of apples since I love to snack on them. She picks up a couple of little pumpkins to decorate her front porch. It's so ridiculously effortless and domestic that it feels like I've known her for years. It's getting harder and harder to stay chill about how much I like being around her. Right as I'm having those lovely thoughts, I see her visibly lock up and go tense. I follow her line of sight and see a couple coming toward us, browsing just like we are.
“What's wrong, you ok?” I ask her.
She shakes it off, but the tension is still there.
“Yeah, I'm fine. That's my ex-husband and his new girlfriend coming toward us. I wasn't thinking I'd run into them here, nor do I want to see them. Also, she's pregnant,” she says in a hushed, quick whisper. I see her easy demeanor shrinking behind a wall as she says it. Her face goes blank instead of full of life like it was a minute ago. I fucking hate it.
Well, shit. My thoughts on how effortless this felt jinxed us. Her ex showing up is the sobering reminder that this woman is dealing with a lot, and does not need my flirting or other bullshit right now. She needs a steady friend. I got too caught up. Since Lyra stands out with her purple curls, it's inevitable that her ex spots her. Then when he sees me next to her, his eyebrows hit his hairline. She's so tense that I can't help but move a little closer and give her a quick touch on her back to let her know I'm here for her. Her ex is almost to us, and I hear him clear his throat. When he comes to stand in front of us, he starts shifting from foot to foot a little.
“Um, hi Lyra. I didn't know you started coming here.”
Lyra puts on a small smile, and lifts her chin a little in that way I’m growing to love.
“I just started coming here last weekend since I've moved closer.” Then she turns to the woman next to him and sticks her hand out.
“You must be Kayla. Nice to meet you. Congrats on your happy news.”
Kayla shakes her hand back, looking a little worried and awkward. “Thank you, Lyra. Nice to meet you, too. I've heard a lot about you.”
“I’m sure,” she says, keeping that smile plastered on before she turns to me.
“Taran, this is my ex Derek and his girlfriend Kayla.”
Derek puts his hand out, and I make sure I squeeze a little harder than necessary as I shake it. There's a tension in his grip as he looks at me with intensity, and his jaw is clenched.
“Hey man, good to meet you,” I tell him. I can tell my smile is more like a baring of teeth.
“Likewise, Taran. Er, how long have you known Lyra?”
“We just met and became friends,” I reply with my tight smile still firmly in place.
He is eyeing me so suspiciously, as if he has any say in who Lyra can and can't be friends with.
I see Lyra roll her eyes. “Seriously, Derek? Cut the pissing contest. Stop staring at my friend like that.”
Kayla chimes in then. “We should get going, Derek.” She grabs his hand and starts leading him away as she says, “It was nice to meet you both.”
Derek says the same, then adds, “I’ll be in touch this week, Lyra. I think everything in the contract is finalized and readyto sign.”
“Looking forward to it,” she replies sweetly. "Nice to meet you, Kayla," she adds more genuinely.
