Chapter 10
The sun hits Demi at the perfect angle, giving her an angelic glow as we sit across from each other in this coffee house.
I can’t stop fucking staring. I can’t stop internally freaking out that she’s actually sitting here with me, and I want to keep asking her a million questions to make this afternoon last as long as I possibly can.
This may have only happened because of a bet, but she didn’t have to follow through. I gave her an out, and she still wanted to come. Whether that was her need to keep her word or maybe that she actually wanted to, I’ll probably never know for sure. But I’m sure as hell thankful nonetheless.
“It’s kind of an up and down thing,” she says after a bout of silence between us.
I nod, not knowing her exact situation, but understanding what she means. I know what it’s like to look happy on the outside and want so badly to feel it on the inside, but you hide behind all the darkness with a smile and positive attitude.
“Yeah, I get it. Emotions ebb and flow…been there,” I admit, without sharing too much of my own experience.
Her lips part ever so slightly, if I hadn’t been staring at them so closely I may have missed it.
“Right.” She shifts her eyes to the other side of the cafe.
Demi’s walls are so fucking high. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to let a soul into her mind—or heart right now. She goes quiet for a moment again, and I don’t want to let her get too in her head, so I perk up.
“About those books.” I smirk, watching her eyes refocus on me instead of zoning out. “What are your three deserted island books?”
She takes a sip of her coffee, and my gaze is stuck on her lips as she coats them with her tongue, tasting the remnants of her drink. It’s a quick swipe, but I don’t miss it.
“Oh god.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “I don’t even know. There are so many books I love. Asking me to pick three is a crime.”
“I’d bring a survival book.”
“Oh yeah?” she questions, her voice laced with amusement.
“Of course. I’d want something to read that could potentially help me get off that island.”
“Is there a book for that?”
“I’m sure if I were to google how to survive on a deserted island, something would come up.”
Demi’s laugh makes me smile and I don’t miss her tuck the stray hair back under her hat after it falls on her cheek.
When I look at her, I see a woman with so much strength. So much goddamn beauty, it hurts. And I wish I could tell her that. But something tells me she doesn’t want to hear how strong she is, because I get the feeling she’s tired of having to be.
“Do you want another coffee?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t,” she says, chuckling to herself as she seemingly glances at the time on her phone. “I already have a hard enough time sleeping, I don’t need to add to that.”
Without missing a beat, I ask, “Why do you have a hard time sleeping?”
“Oh, you know…” She trails off, waving her hand in the air.
“I don’t. Enlighten me.”
“Let me guess, you’re one of those people who falls asleep the second your head hits the pillow?”
Not exactly.
“Why can’t you sleep, Dem?” My words feel more direct this time. They hold more curiosity than before.
“Little of this, little of that. I have a lot of baggage.” She sighs heavily on the last word.
My chest tightens at her answer, but whenever I’m around her I feel this urge to be a safety net. Someone she can talk to without judgment or ridicule. “Well…” I sigh. “Lucky for you, I love unpacking.”
She tilts her head in what I think is an attempt to hide a smile, but it’s hard to tell when she returns her face toward mine and looks indifferent.
But then her eyes narrow almost playfully. “It’s highly suspicious that you’re this interested in my sleep.”
Knocking my head back, I let out a rough sigh. It drives me fucking nuts she can’t seem to believe anyone is genuinely interested in her wellbeing. What the hell kind of husband was Nells?
“You have to know by now that I’m interested in anything you want to tell me, Dem. I don’t have stipulations or requirements, nothing is conditional. I want to know everything you want to tell me.”
She breathes in and out, those dark eyes staring at me with uncertainty.
I can tell she’s weighing out the options right now.
“I just have a hard time sleeping more often than not. It’s nothing.
” Her head does a quick little shake back and forth as she clears her throat.
“My mind messes with me. I know how stupid that probably sounds to you. But I just have a hard time turning it off.”
“You aren’t alone, you know. Just because my issues might not look the same as yours doesn’t mean I can’t understand and empathize with you. Don’t assume my life is all rainbows and butterflies. Do you actually think I have no issues? No baggage myself?”
Her brown eyes look anywhere but at me. She fidgets with the coffee stirrer between her fingers and it’s like I can see what she’s referring to at this very second.
Without her saying anything, I can see how her mind is spinning, how it’s causing her to spiral and probably overthink this entire conversation and interaction.
“You’re right. That was unfair,” she answers. “Baggage for baggage,” she offers, and I nod. “Why’d you tense up when your dad was mentioned the other day?”
I choke back a cough as that’s the last thing I expect her to ask me. I didn’t even think I made it that obvious about my desire to talk about anything else.
“Going for the throat right out of the gates, okay.”
Her black nails mindlessly draw circles on the table between us as she stares at me. She never stares at me. At least not like I stare at her, and fuck. I like it. Her attention. Her gaze. Her interest.
“I saw the way you reacted when I brought him up.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “We just have a complicated relationship. That’s the long and short of it.”
She blinks a few times, watching me carefully as she decides if the information I just gave her is enough to satisfy her before she speaks.
“I have nightmares sometimes, and other times I just can’t fall asleep at all,” she admits, head down, voice hushed. As if she wants as few people as possible to know.
I notice how Demi picks at her fingernails, and I’m starting to realize I don’t think she’s sat completely still this entire time.
“Nightmares where you can’t fall asleep, or they wake you up at night?” I’m no stranger to sleepless nights. Only Dana, my therapist, knows about that, though.
“Both,” she says, clearing her throat with a small chuckle.
I nod as she stares at me and she returns the gesture. Somehow both of us seeming to feel a little relieved for this admission of hers. It’s kind of nice to know I’m not the only one who often sees pain when I close my eyes, even if we don’t know exactly what the other is referring to.
The sound of shoes scuffing the floor grabs my attention. “Oh shit, Liam Evans.” The eager voice of a male interrupts the silence between us, and I turn my head to see a man and woman standing at the counter waiting on drinks.
“And you’re Demi Sanchez.” The woman with him perks up.
Demi smiles as if we weren’t just in the middle of a heavy moment and nods as she greets the woman.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your—”
“Business meeting,” Demi cuts in before the woman can place any labels on today.
I scoff under my breath as I stand and shake the guy’s hand. They both ask for pictures, and I can see how hesitant Demi is to be photographed with me, so I take the asshole card for the day and decline as politely as possible.
Thankfully, the couple seems to understand, and I catch a closed lips smile from Demi.
“We should go,” Demi says in a hushed voice, scooting her chair back.
I nod, extending my hand out in front of me to follow her lead.
It’s warm once we’re on the sidewalk and the sun is glowing in the sky. Humid, even in the evening, it feels like a summer out on the water. Like I should be pulling in the anchor and loading up the boat from the island to head back to the dock.
The curve of Demi’s hips distracts me when I take a few steps after her.
“I…” She pauses when she turns to face me. “Your dad will be off-limits. In interviews with me, I mean. I won’t bring him up, and if I see anything on the media sheets I’ll decline.”
She has no explanation of the circumstances.
Not even the smallest morsel of information.
For all she knows, the “it’s complicated” could mean something as simple as we don’t like the same music.
She has no idea why, but it doesn’t matter.
She’s still telling me she won’t ask about him, and fuck.
This woman has no goddamn clue what that means to me.
I swallow the lump in my throat and feel my jaw tick as I nod.
“Thank you for the coffee. And I shouldn’t have made that fan interaction so weird for you. I’m sorry about that, I just…” She doesn’t finish the thought as she takes a few steps toward me. “I appreciate your friendship, Liam.”
“Friends.” I nod as I repeat the word.
“Think you can handle that?” Her voice holds a little amusement as she smirks at me.
I’ve been handling it for years. I can do it easily, even though I don’t want to. But I’m curious to know if she can, now that circumstances are different. I’m also not going to rest easy until I know she’s found a new place to live—whether it’s by me or not.
I smile, tilting my head down to her as I hold my hand out, gesturing my index and middle finger for the phone she’s holding. “What?” Her hip pops as she stands in front of me, her eyes curiously glaring in my direction.
“I can be your friend, Dem. But it’s not me I’m worried about.” My fingertips graze her wrist near the tattoo I’ve always wondered about as she hands me her phone.
I hold it up to her face, unlocking the screen so I can add my number.
“What are you—”
“Let me know when you want to come see the empty apartment. It’s got a great view. Friendly neighbors.” I wink, and she gapes at me as I hand her phone back to her. “You’re welcome for the coffee, Dem.”