Maybe if you'd been less difficult to love.
I stare down at my water glass. The condensation has left a ring on the table, and I trace it with my finger.
A shadow falls across the booth, I assume it's Daithí. "That was quick." The silence that follows has my stomach dropping, and I look up. Lorenzo. Of course, because apparently the universe has decided I haven't suffered enough for one day.
His gaze flicks to the empty seat across from me. "Daithí?"
"Phone call."
He nods and the man from the bookstore feels very different from the man who's spent the last couple of weeks keeping me at arm's length.
"Meeting?" I ask.
The question comes out before I can stop it. His eyes return to mine. "Business."
Of course it is, everything with Lorenzo is business lately. He glances toward the front of the restaurant, and then back at me. "You waiting for him?"
I almost laugh. "No. I just enjoy sitting alone in restaurants."
A corner of his mouth twitches, it’s not quite a smile, but close enough that I notice it. "Fair."
The silence returns, it's uncomfortable. Not because of him, because of everything that sits between us now. So I look at him and ask the question that's been stuck in my head for weeks. "Did I do something?" The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
For a second, Lorenzo looks genuinely caught off guard. Good. Because I've been caught off guard for weeks.
His jaw tightens. "No."
I stare at him. "You hesitated."
His eyes narrow slightly. "You were watching me closely enough to notice?"
I ignore that. "Then what is it?"
His gaze holds mine, and f or a second, I think he's actually going to tell me. Instead, he looks away. "Things are complicated."
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. "Complicated?"
His eyes return to mine.
"That's the word you're going with?"
"It's accurate."
I shake my head. "No, it isn't."
Frustration flashes across his face and a waiter appears with mine and Daithí’s drinks before either of us can say anything else.
The interruption gives me a chance to breathe. Lorenzo waits until the waiter leaves. "You didn't do anything."
"Right."
He sighs, the sound is quiet, and tired. "You shouldn't look at me like that."
I frown. "Like what?"
"Like you're waiting for an explanation."
My chest tightens, because that's exactly what I'm doing, waiting, and hoping. Trying to figure out what happened to the man who spent an afternoon arguing with me about dragons and buying me books. I hate that I miss him, I hate it even more because I barely knew him.
