19. Chapter 19
Nick
It’s been a few days since I last saw Lydia. The shop’s been busy, and I’ve done my best to keep my distance and not to text her every time she crosses my mind. Which has been nearly impossible, considering she’s on my mind constantly.
We’re just friends. That’s what I keep telling myself.
It kills me I’ve finally met a woman I can see myself falling for, building something real with, and she’s off-limits. She made a promise to another man. A man who’s obviously an idiot for treating a woman like her so terribly. A man who deserves to get his ass kicked seven ways to Sunday.
Yeah, she’s in the process of ending that marriage. I know that. But that doesn’t change the fact she isn’t mine to want. At least not yet.
I know all of this. And still, when I spot her across the street, face tipped toward the sky, looking lighter than I’ve ever seen her, I don’t think. My feet are already moving before my brain can argue. I’m drawn to her in a way that leaves me no choice.
I can’t help it. Truth be told, I don’t even want to.
As I make my way toward her, with her head tilted upward, she closes her eyes.
I slow down and take her in. Her golden hair falls in wild, loose waves around her shoulders.
Her soft pink lips are parted slightly, the hint of a smile lingering like she doesn’t even realize it.
Her cheeks are warm and flushed. She looks… free.
She’s wearing a cream sweater slipped slightly off one shoulder and a floral skirt that moves with the breeze, brushing against her legs. My hands flex at my sides. I want to put them on her hips, pull her to me, and just hold her there. Just to feel her body against mine.
I reach out and place my hands on her shoulders, causing her to stumble slightly. Her eyes grow big as she takes me in.
I keep my hands still, forcing myself not to grip too tightly. The contact alone sends a jolt straight through me, but I try to keep my face neutral. Casual. Like this doesn’t affect me at all.
For a second, everything narrows. We’re on a busy street in the middle of town, people maneuvering around us.
But for one moment, it’s just us. We’re standing so close I don’t see anyone else.
Close enough to see the sunlight shine through the waves in her hair.
Close enough to catch the faint hitch in her breath.
Close enough to feel her warmth through that soft sweater.
Close enough to count the faint freckles across the bridge of her nose.
There are twelve.
She looks up, and the look in her eyes makes my heart kick hard against my ribs. There’s something here. Something between us, low and steady, but heated and urgent too. Impossible to ignore.
I don’t know what to call it, but I’ve never believed in coincidences. I know, without a doubt, Lydia was brought here for a reason. Maybe not now, but someday, I’ll be lucky as hell to call this girl mine.
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” I say before my mouth asks permission.
“Oh, shoot. I’m so sorry, Nick. That’s what I get for walking with my eyes closed. Did I hurt you?” she asks breathlessly.
I chuckle at that. I’m six-three and about two-twenty-five on a good day. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a solid dude. I work hard in the gym, and it shows. I try not to laugh at the idea of Lydia, who stands nearly a foot shorter than me, physically hurting me.
“No, Lydia, you didn’t hurt me. Are you alright?” I ask, still holding her arms.
For a second, she just blinks up at me, then lets out a flustered little laugh.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I was just enjoying the sun a little too much for my own good, but man, it feels great. I love this time of year…Did you just call me pretty?”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, clearly embarrassed but trying to play it off. I can’t help but smile.
Her awkwardness is one of my favorite things about her. She doesn’t try to hide it. She just is. It’s like she’s been wound tight for so long she’s only now letting herself be exactly who she is.
And I find myself just…looking at her. Something’s different; she looks lighter. Happier. Like something has shifted inside her. I want to know what it is. Selfishly, I want to be a part of it.
“Yeah, I did.” I shrug, not even a little sorry. The girl is a knockout and deserves to hear it often. She just looks up at me, unable to hide her grin.
“You’re in high spirits. How’s your day been?” I ask, wanting to know what has her so happy.
Her face breaks into a grin that does something wildly unfair, but not at all unpleasant, to my chest.
“My day? My day has been great. I worked at the bookstore this morning. Grabbed breakfast at Joe’s. You’ve eaten there, right? Those breakfast burritos are amazing!”
She’s talking fast now, her hands moving as she lists off her morning. I try to follow along, but mostly I’m just watching her. She’s a rambler, and I swear I could listen to her read off her grocery list and still think it’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.
“Yes, Lydi. I’ve eaten at Joe’s.” I chuckle. “Is that what has you so happy? A good breakfast burrito?”
I’m still holding her arms, unable to force myself to let go just yet.
She sucks in a small breath, her eyes going wide. Shit. I drop my arms. Was that too much? Did I hold on too long?
“You called me Lydi,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Had I? I didn’t even realize. Talking to her feels so easy that the nickname must’ve just slipped out.
“I’m sorry. Was that not okay?” I’m not sure why it would bother her, but it obviously caught her attention.
“Oh, it’s okay. My grandma called me that when I was younger. It was just…really nice to hear it again.” She smiles a big, beautiful smile up at me.
My stomach does that tightening, flip-flop thing again, and I make a mental note to call her that every chance I get. I’d do just about anything to draw that smile out of her.
We fall into step beside each other, our arms swinging naturally in rhythm. It feels easy. Familiar. Like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
We walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she suddenly blurts, “I just left a meeting with my divorce attorney, and it went really well, and that’s why I’m in such a good mood.” The whole sentence comes out in one rushed breath. Her whole face glows as she beams up at me.
She blinks a few times, then runs a hand through her wild blonde waves like she can’t quite believe she said it out loud.
Divorce attorney. The words settle between us, and for a split second, my chest tightens. She’s really leaving him.
“You did? Wow, Lydia. That’s…that’s great.”
I stumble over the words and don’t even bother trying to play it cool. She saw an attorney. That means she’s serious. A quiet surge of hope moves through me before I can stop it.
She’s leaving him. Thank God.
From what she’s told me about Simon—what kind of a weaselly name is Simon, anyway?—the guy’s a coward. There’s no excuse for a man to put his hands on a woman. None. Any man who does that isn’t a man at all. Plain and simple.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it. I have to unclench my fists so she doesn’t notice. Just thinking about what he did to her makes something dark flicker in my chest. But this is good. She’s really leaving him. The surge of hope nearly knocks me on my ass.
I can’t wrap my head around how she stayed with someone like that.
A man who thought it was acceptable to hurt her.
But this isn’t about me and what I’d like to do to him.
It’s about her. About the fact she’s finally breaking free of someone who didn’t see her as the brilliant, beautiful woman she is.
Someone who wanted to dim her light and break her spirit.
I draw in a slow breath and force my jaw to relax before she notices.
Then I look at her, dipping my head so she can see my eyes clearly.
“You’re really brave,” I say quietly. “You know that, right?”
And I mean it more than I’ve meant anything before. She is brave. She loaded up her car and drove away from the only life she knew. She left her home and most of her things, all to escape a man who vowed to love and protect her, only to hurt her instead. Both mentally and physically.
She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. A couple of beats pass while she takes in what I’ve said.
“You really think I’m brave?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“Hell yeah, I think you’re brave, Lydia.
You may be one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.
You left a dangerous situation with basically the clothes on your back.
You drove halfway across the country alone and started a whole new life.
On your own terms. If that’s not brave, I don’t know what is.
You should be damn proud of yourself. I know we haven’t known each other long, but if it matters, I’m really fucking proud of you. ”
Before I know what’s happening, Lydia launches herself into my arms, her arms winding around my neck.
Mine wrap around her tightly on instinct, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other settling at the small of her back.
Her body melts into mine as if she’s made to fit there.
I’m not sure how long we stand here, but I’m sure we’re getting more than a few stares and snickers from the townspeople passing by.
Fuck them. I’m going to stand here and hold this girl as long as she’ll let me.
After what feels far too short, but was probably longer than publicly appropriate, she pulls away, apology in her eyes.
“Oh gosh, Nick. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.
It’s just…” She hesitates for a moment. “I don’t know that anyone has ever told me they were proud of me.
I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear that. So thank you. Thank you so much.”
Tears stream down her face, and without a second thought, I swipe my thumb across her cheeks to wipe them away. I can’t stand seeing her cry.
She looks up at me, her bottom lip trembling. Then, unexpectedly, she lets out a shaky laugh that sounds dangerously close to a sob. “I thought I was just surviving, not being brave.”
I reach out and give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Sometimes surviving is the bravest thing you can do,” I tell her softly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Lydia fidgets with her hands, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment, but I stand firm. She deserves to hear how incredible she is. I can hardly believe no one has told her they were proud of her before. I know her life before coming here was rough, but damn.
“How about some coffee?” I blurt.
Partly to ease the tension still flickering behind her eyes and partly because I’m selfish and want an excuse to spend more time with her. I’d love to ask her to dinner, but I’m not sure where her head is at yet. Besides, coffee feels safer.
“Oh, coffee sounds great right now,” she says, then tilts her head. “But I’m also starving. Is it too early for dinner?”
I glance at my watch. It’s not quite five. I said I’d swing back by the shop after I hit the post office, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m turning her down.
“Nope,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Not too early at all. What sounds good?”
“The diner was so good this morning and Joe was a real sweetheart. Would you mind if we went there?”
“The diner sounds great. Let’s go.” I turn to cross to the side of the street where the diner sits, and without thinking, I place a hand at the small of Lydia’s back, guiding her.
The diner isn’t exactly my idea of a great first-date spot, but then I remind myself we aren’t on a date. We are friends having dinner together. Just friends.
Friends who are obviously attracted to each other and both almost single.
But she isn’t. Not yet. Right now, I have to just be her friend. And I’ll gladly be that if it means I get to keep spending time with her.
Looking down at her and seeing the excitement and optimism on her face, I tell myself I’m ready to be whatever she needs me to be. I can absolutely be her friend right now.
I can only hope one day I’ll get the chance to be something more.