Chapter 13 The First Heartbeat #3
He looks different today. Lighter somehow, despite the dark circles under his eyes. He's wearing a shirt I've always liked, the blue one with the collar that refuses to lie flat. I catch myself wanting to straighten it.
"Sera." He lowers the paper bag from where he's been holding it against his chest. "I resisted eating any of yours."
"How noble." I stop in front of him, leaving a careful distance between us. "Hand them over before your resolve weakens."
"The lemon ones." He holds out the bag. "I got there early to make sure they hadn't sold out."
I take the bag and peek inside. The smell hits me immediately, honey and lemon and warm roasted almonds, and my stomach growls loudly enough that Rafael laughs.
"Hungry?" His smile widens when I open the bag instead of putting it away.
"Starving." I pop an almond in my mouth and close my eyes as the flavor hits my tongue. Perfect. Exactly what I've been craving for days. "These are incredible."
"I bought the plain salted ones first." He points to a second bag tucked under his arm. "Then I asked about the lemon glaze, and the woman sent me across to her sister. I thought I'd better be certain before I told you I'd found them."
"So those are yours?" I point at the other bag, pleased by how ordinary the question feels.
"Unless you want both." His offer is immediate, and I have to look down before he sees the smile I'm trying to stop.
"Walk with me?" I start moving toward the vegetable stalls, not waiting for his answer. He falls into step beside me, keeping pace without crowding.
At the olive stall, an older man calls Rafael by his surname. Rafael stops to shake his hand and ask after his wife. This man he knows. At the next table, he waits while a woman finishes serving before introducing himself.
"Nadia? Your sister sent me over earlier." He gestures toward the open bag in my hand. "The lemon ones were exactly right. Thank you."
The woman wipes her hands on her apron and looks at the open bag in mine. "I can see that. Shall I put another aside for next week?"
I am halfway through reaching for an almond when Rafael looks at me. He doesn't answer for me.
"One bag, please." I lick a little honey from my thumb, suddenly self-conscious. "I might have changed my mind by then, but I'll risk it."
"She makes the decision. I carry the bags." Rafael steps back to let another customer reach the stall, and Nadia laughs before turning to the newcomer.
"You learned her name." I keep pace with him as we pass a table of flowering plants. "And her sister's."
"It seemed rude to ask half the square where to find someone without learning who I was looking for." He glances back at the stall. "Your directions helped. She'd moved farther from the fountain today."
I know he has walked this market before. I know he can be charming when he chooses. But he could have sent someone with a list. Instead, he is here holding a paper bag with a greasy patch spreading across the bottom, remembering the people who helped him find something I wanted.
Something shifts in my chest, a loosening I wasn't prepared for. I'm furious with myself for feeling it. I'm terrified of what it might mean. And underneath both of those things, I'm aware of a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the spring sunshine.
I stop beside a tray of basil and lift a pot to check the leaves. "Mama wanted one of these. I nearly forgot."
Rafael holds out his free hand while I pay. "I can carry that, if you like."
I hand him the pot, my fingers brushing against his. I don't pull away immediately.
"Rafael." I don't know what I'm going to say until I say it. "I'm still not ready to come home."
"I know." He doesn't look disappointed. He doesn't look surprised. "I'm not asking you to."
"But I want you to know..." I struggle to find the words. "I was glad you were there on Tuesday. And I'm glad you came today. I don't want to pretend I haven't noticed."
His eyes meet mine, and I see hope there, fragile and fierce.
"I'm glad you told me what you wanted." He shifts the basil so the damp pot won't mark his shirt. "Even the almonds. I'm glad you asked."
A couple pass between us with a wheeled basket. I move aside to let them through, then find myself beside Rafael again without having decided to go there.
I could take the basil back. Thank him for the almonds, tell him I'll call about the next appointment, and leave before I make this morning mean too much.
He glances toward the next row of stalls, then back at me, waiting for me to choose where we go.
That patience gets to me more than any promise could. Damn him. I was prepared for him to ask for more. I wasn't prepared to want to give it.
"There's a coffee stand at the end of the square." I fold the top of my almond bag down so I can hold it in one hand. "I'm getting water. You could have a coffee."
"With you?" He keeps the basil tucked against his side, as though moving too quickly might make me take the invitation back.
"With me." I turn toward the square before he can see how much saying it costs.
This time, I'm the one asking him to stay.