I sigh as he reaches over to lace his hand with mine while the other controls the wheel.
“Are you going to tell me or leave me hanging all night wondering what I can do to help?”
“Let’s get Grey to bed, and then we can talk,” I tell him.
He takes a breath as he pulls into his driveway. He gets out of the truck as soon as he’s in park, walking around the front to open my door and then Grey’s door.
“Hey, buddy, let’s get in the house, okay?”
Grey grumbles something but gets out and shuffles his way inside, with Simon and me behind him. Simon slides his hand over my lower back to pull me close and kisses the top of my head.
I’ll tell you what, if he doesn’t feel the same, no man, and I mean no man, can kiss my head ever again. It won’t be the same. It won’t hold the same feeling of comfort and safety the way it does when Simon does it. It’s so natural to him.
I don’t want to miss this.
“Wait here,” Simon says just before he follows Grey up the steps.
Something about the way he said those two words make me pause. He didn’t say,go to my room and wait for me,ormake yourself at home, I’ll be right back. He saidwait here, as if he wants me to stand in the doorway. As if he’s going to come back down and say goodnight before sending me on my way.
I’m not sure where to look, so I fidget in place, not even bothering to take off my coat.
How did so much between us change with two words?
I blow out a breath.
You know what? I’m probably just overthinking every detail on account of what I’m waiting to talk to him about. Allowing my mind to play out all the worst-case scenarios so that when he does say he, too, wants this to be real, it’ll be the best.
A few more minutes pass.
A week is too soon for me to ask him this, right?
Almost a decade’s worth of thoughts can’t be altered in a week, can they?
Before my thoughts can run too wild, Simon appears and points to the door.
“I’ll walk you home.”
Damn. Talk about being dismissed.
Something happened tonight. He’s shutting down.
We walk side by side, and I’m very aware of his woodsy cologne. I’m also very aware of the fact he isn’t touching me.
“I had fun tonight,” I say as we reach my door.
He slowly backs up, his head dropping on a sigh.
“I think we need to stop what we’re doing here,” he says in almost a whisper. He can’t even look up.
I gently touch his chin and force him to look at me.
“Did something happen tonight?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. I could tell him everything—how I think we should be more, that we can be more. But something has him spooked. “Should we sleep on it and talk more tomorrow? It’s almost one, and I’m beat.”
I squeeze his hand reassuringly.
