looked over at Scott. He was wearing his usual Lady Shay smile, the one that was so real and gentle and, somehow, proud. “Do you mind?” I asked.
He shook his head and went to sit on the edge of Shayla’s bed. I took my usual position on my knees at her side.
Shayla knew she’d gotten her way and was emboldened by the victory. “You pway,” she said to Scott.
I held my breath. The intimacy of that moment was so visceral that it felt fragile and taut.
Scott took hold of Shayla’s hand and she grabbed mine with the other, squinting her eyes shut and waiting for the prayer.
“Jesus,” Scott said, holding her hand in both of his and using words Shayla would understand, “please be with Shayla tonight. Keep her dreams happy and her spirit sweet. And be with Shelby too—there’s a lot going on in her life. And in mine. We rest in you. Amen.”
“Amen!” Shayla chirped.
I kissed her face and returned her hug, then headed out to the living room while Scott said good night again. I was sitting on the couch when he joined me, though he chose to sit on the chair nearer the window.
“I’m sorry, Scott,” I said. “I know you were being sincere, and I went and opened my big mouth and ruined it. . . . And I’m sorry. Really, Scott, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot—like that’s anything new to you.”
He steepled his fingers in front of his face, his eyes on me, and kept silent for a moment. There was neither frustration nor disappointment in his gaze—though they’d been there before, when my Scarlett O’Hara had put a damper on our day. Now it was just pensive. Subdued.
He took a breath and held it, then exhaled loudly, the sound filling the room that had become too quiet. He spread his hands out in front of him and said, “I’m not sure where to start—or how to say it. I’m not even really sure of what it is, actually.”
“What were you going to say at the restaurant? Can we rewind and play that over? I promise Scarlett’s gone for good.”
He withdrew into thought again, his eyes on me but his mind clearly elsewhere. When he finally spoke again, it was in a tentative way, weighing each word and scanning my face for a reaction.
“What I was going to ask you at the restaurant was if it would be okay for me to hold your hand—like at the tree lot—and if it would be okay for me to spend more time with you. With you and Shayla.” He paused. “But given your reaction . . .”
“I didn’t mean it! It was just a knee-jerk thing!”
“Given your reaction, I think I need to change my question. And given your reaction, I’m really scared of doing so.”
I didn’t want him to change questions. I knew the answer to the hand-holding one. “Okay.”
“I know there’s stuff you haven’t told me.”
“Like my David Hasselhoff fantasies?” He gave me a look and I threw up my hands in defeat. “See?” I groaned. “I can’t help it!” I gave myself a mental kick in the butt and continued. “Other people twist their hands or get twitchy when they’re nervous, and I just go straight for the sarcasm—straight for the zinger—but it’s not because I’m trying to be hurtful! It’s just—it’s a reflex thing. Like screaming when I’m scared or eating when . . . well, just about anytime. That one doesn’t work.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“See?” I was all out of steam and Scott hadn’t moved, except for the smirk on just one side of his mouth. “Ask me your question, Scott. I promise I’ll be good.” There was a six-year-old sound to the statement, but I didn’t care.
Scott levered himself out of the chair and came to sit near me on the couch. He raked his fingers through his hair and dropped his head for a moment. When he looked up, he had his game face on. And I couldn’t blame him, as I hadn’t exactly made things easy for him so far.
“I’m—and I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a teenager—but I’m attracted to you, Shelby. Have been for a while, in case you hadn’t noticed. And I’d like to . . . I’d like to pursue you, if you’ll let me. Not just hold your hand or spend time with you and Shay.”
And that was when the warm, Scott-shaped glow in my chest froze, then paled,