Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34804 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 174(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 12
Calliope
I watch Rafe pick at his meal, worried over his lack of enthusiasm for Beasley’s Chicken and Waffles. It was one of our favorite restaurants to go to together back in the day, and it was his suggestion to come here tonight. I’d stopped by the Simmonses’ house after work and grabbed Rafe. His mom had texted me that she thought he needed to get away for a little bit, and I was happy to oblige.
A little too happy. I missed Rafe the five days he was gone in Boston. He called me when he had some free moments, and we texted regularly, but damn if that isn’t starting to feel inadequate. It worries me to no end that I’m beginning to feel dependent on him for some of my happiness. That definitely breaches the boundaries I set.
Was this inevitable? Taking two former lovers who drifted apart and putting them back into an intimate situation. Feelings will grow, right?
It sounds stupid when I think about it in its simplest form. I also know my refusal to consider the possibilities with Rafe is rooted in fear. Which doesn’t seem so stupid.
Still, I’m worried about Rafe—as I am about Brenda and Jim—and I can’t hold back on him now, despite how concerned I am about the boundaries that seem to be disappearing. “Penny for your thoughts?”
He looks up, his fork stuck in the fried chicken breast sitting atop the waffle. “Sorry…what?”
He looks confused.
Lost.
“Looks like you got a lot on your mind. Want to share?”
For a moment, his face becomes etched with relief, and he even goes so far as to open his mouth to speak, looking as if he might spill his guts to me. I lean a little closer in anticipation.
Then, just as suddenly, his expression clouds, and he shakes his head. He even attempts a confident smile. “I’m good, actually. How about you? How’s work going?”
No, no, no. This isn’t good at all. He’s withholding because he knows that anything he shares with me puts us into murkier water. Would he be sharing as my lover? My friend? The man who hurt me, and yet someone I’ve reopened myself to?
Would sharing mean something past friendship—which is surely hard to quantify?
“Rafe,” I say gently, reaching across the table and taking his hand. “Seriously…how are you doing? Because I’m guessing not good, and I want to help.”
“I’m good,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
My right eyebrow shoots up, the other one flattening. “Come on, Rafe…don’t do this.”
He stares back at me for a moment, his jaw working side to side as he contemplates me. He leans back even farther in his chair. “You want to know how I’m doing?”
I smile at him and prop my chin in my hand, ready to take on his burdens.
His gaze moves to the ceiling as he drawls. “Let’s see…”
Attention back on me, he leans forward, crossing his arms on the edge of the table now as he gives me a pointed look. “Well, for starters, my dad is dying. Every day, he’s slipping a little further away from me, and I’m running out of time. I have so much to talk to him about, but not enough time to do it in.”
My expression turns sympathetic, and I give him an affirming nod, silently motioning for him to continue.
“And when I could be sitting beside his bed, soaking up those last minutes, I’m instead sitting here in a restaurant with a woman I love. And I’m too afraid to tell her that because it’s against the fucking rules.”
My chin jerks inward, and I straighten in my seat. When had his tone gone from bereaved to bitter?
Rafe pushes his plate aside and scoots his chair in closer to the table, which enables him to lean closer to me. “That’s right. I love you, Calliope, and the mere fact that it’s terrifying to admit that to you is fucked up beyond all measure. I remember the first time I told you. I was pushing you on the tire swing over at Kent Mitchell’s house during one of his summer parties. I told you when your back was to me. I pushed you hard, you went flying away from me, and I let those words fly right along with you. The look you gave me over your shoulder as you came back was utterly stunned and joyous all at the same time. It was the look I expected because I knew it was the right time to tell you, and I knew you felt the same exact way about me.”
I’m speechless, first and foremost by the memory he just painted so prettily. I remember that day as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, It was truly one of the best moments of my life.