47. Booth
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
booth
“I remember your dad.”
My head whips in Harvey’s direction, a forkful of apple pie hovering an inch from my mouth.
“ You do?”
He nods.
“ Yeah . It was before he opened the restaurant. He was older than me, but we went to the same school. My mom even taught him. I’m sorry to hear about his passing.”
I drop my chin.
“ I appreciate that.”
Aly, Martin , Harvey , Sandra , and I sit around the large oak dining table in Martin’s kitchen, sharing a freshly baked pie from Quinn’s bakery.
Aly “officially” introduced me to Harvey , and we’ve spent the last few hours chatting.
It’s mostly been Aly and Harvey getting to know each other.
Martin and Sandra , like me, are content watching this new bond slowly knit together.
A patchwork of new and old.
I’ve kept my emotions under check, but what I’m finding hard to control is the pride threatening to blast out of my chest over the woman sitting next to me.
Aly smiles when I squeeze her thigh under the table, and shit, I need to kiss her so bad.
“He’d be proud to know you’re carrying on the family business.” Harvey glances between Aly and me.
“ Must be strange having your girlfriend as your boss?”
There hasn’t been a drop of awkwardness this afternoon.
Until now.
Aly and I share a look.
Sandra nudges Harvey with her elbow and whispers, “ I’m not sure that was the correct thing to say.”
Fortunately, her joke moves the conversation along and we’re not forced to explain our situation.
Unfortunately , he wants to know more about my job.
“ You’ve worked there since you were a teenager? Have you always wanted to be a chef?”
Worn often, my smile slides on easily.
“ Always . Couldn’t imagine doing it anywhere else but the place my dad founded.”
Aly stiffens.
It’s subtle, but I’m a scholar for her and her body.
Well versed in the way her eyes shine when I call her beautiful.
The erotic noises she makes when eating.
The wrinkles between her brows when she’s fighting off a snarky comment.
Right now, her tense shoulders say she wants to speak up.
To correct me.
Guilt riddles me over the fact I still haven’t told her about Pedro’s offer.
Thankfully, we move on to the next topic and before long, the sun begins to set.
Everyone is tired, but as I wait for Aly by my truck, watching her and Harvey say goodbye, I notice a change about her.
She’s always graceful; movements fluid and practiced.
Now , there’s an added eloquence to her, like an immovable blockade has finally shifted.
I’m close enough to catch the last of their conversation.
“Here’s my card with my work and personal cell. I’m sorry we have to get back so soon,” Harvey says regretfully.
He’s a nice guy and I’m sure he would stay all evening getting to know Aly if he could.
“ But if you ever want to call, text, or email, that’s fine.”
Aly flips over the small rectangular card in her fingers.
“ Thank you. I hope you have a safe journey home.”
“And you,” he returns.
Before Aly turns away, he stops her.
“ Would it… Could I hug you?”
Blinking rapidly, I watch as she struggles for a response.
She isn’t shy when it comes to human touch, but this has taken her by surprise.
It’s taken me by surprise.
Harvey shakes his head.
“ There I go again with my big mouth. I’m so?—”
His apology evaporates when Aly wraps her arms around him, squeezes once, then pulls away.
I’m not witnessing a bond between father and daughter.
That’s never been Aly’s intent.
Instead , I observe two people, not lost, but who have found their paths unexpectedly crossing.
Only they know what’s next, but from Harvey’s warm gaze and Aly’s serene expression, this won’t be the last they see of each other.
We drive back separately to her apartment, and when we’re standing on the sidewalk outside the bakery, she takes a hold of my hand and tugs me up the stairs.
Behind closed doors, Aly collapses into me, and when my T -shirt grows wet, it’s then I realize she’s handed over her trust to me absolutely.
Mind , body, and soul bared.
Her tears slice me down the middle, but they aren’t sad.
She’s releasing everything she’s built around her.
All the disappointment, animosity, and doubt.
“I know, beautiful,” I whisper into her hair.
“ You did so good. Let it out.”
Her sobs quake her body.
My hands rub up and down her back as I carry her to the sofa.
With a shaky breath, she peers up at me, eyes shining and cheeks flushed .
“You good?” I ask.
She nods, cupping my jaw.
“ Thank you for being there.” She looks into space over my shoulder.
“ I can’t believe how nice he is. Do you think it went okay?”
God, this woman.
So confident and striking, but it’s her vulnerable side that has my heart skipping a beat.
I rest my hand over hers as she idly plays with the ends of my hair.
“ I don’t think it could’ve gone any better. He’s a fantastic guy. I’m happy for you. And Martin .”
“Yeah, me too. They have a way to go, but I hope this is the first step in them reconnecting.” Breaking our gazes, she reaches into her coat pocket.
“ I’m going to call my parents, they’ll be waiting for an update.”
“Yeah, of course.” I go to stand, but she grips the hem of my T -shirt.
“ Where are you going?”
I point down the hallway.
“ I was gonna hang out in your bedroom until you’re done.”
She frowns at me like I’m stupid.
“ No . I want you here.”
Turns out, I am stupid.
My heart fractures in bitter realization as she stares up at me, all doe eyed.
I’ve fallen so deep for this intelligent, remarkable, beautiful creature that I feel the heat from the center of the earth.
And seven days is all we have left.
I trace the edge of her jaw while pushing that bitter feeling away.
“ My favorite place to be.”
We settle back on the sofa, her back to my chest, as she calls her folks.
“Mama,” she croaks.
“Thisavré mou,” Lydia’s concerned voice sounds through the phone.
“ Your father is here. We are listening. How did it go?”
She tells them everything.
There’s crying. Sighs of relief.
Even some laughter. Aly trembles against me as her mother soothes her in Greek .
It’s hard to comprehend the emotions running through her, but not once does my hold on her slacken.
After saying goodbye, my arms remain banded around her.
Letting her go isn’t going to be easy.
We stay like that for what feels like hours until she wriggles in my lap.
“Can we cook?” Her voice is raspy.
I chuckle. “ Yeah , baby, we can cook. What are you in the mood for?”
She nibbles on the corner of her lip, humming as she thinks.
“ How about…”
How about we fall in love?
The thought pops into my head, makes camp, and refuses to leave.
The room sways.
I want to cook for Aly as she sits on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, while she tells me about her day.
I want to find her in my bed after a long shift.
I want to watch her paint in nothing but those silky pajamas.
I want to rile her up just to kiss the frown off her face.
I want her mornings, days, and nights.
I want to tell her I love her.
No. Not want. Need .
Need or want, that future isn’t on the cards.
“Do you have any tuna left? I’d kill for some tartare.” Her happy voice sweeps away the miserable realization.
“I’ll make you whatever you want.”
Later, after we’ve had dinner and I’ve cherished her body until our limbs give out, I lock away any and all ideas of a life together.
The sound of the key turning echoes in my skull, keeping me awake until the early hours.