Her eyes are golden circles in the dim candlelight. They’re dancing with mirth. And her lips are twitching.
I burst out laughing.
A small grin crosses her face. “A very good sign for parenthood, Jennings.”
“What’s that?” I pop the bite of steak in my mouth.
“A sense of humor. And our son has an excellent one, though you’ve only seen glimpses of it. I honestly believe you’ll do just fine,” she informs me serenely.
“And what about his mother? What does she have?”
“A lot of patience. I’ve been dealing with a smaller version of you for almost twenty years” is her immediate retort. “Jed used to say being near Kevin was like having you around 24/7.”
I laugh again. “He said practically the same thing to me in his letter.”
Kara puts her fork down. “Maybe one day, you’ll tell me what he said?” she asks hesitantly.
“Maybe one day I will,” I agree amicably.
Like the day I know you’re seeing just me with the eyes of the woman you are today, I think silently as I cut into my steak.
Jennings
We spend the rest of the meal discussing all things Kevin. It’s one step forward and two steps back because I’m thrilled to know every minute detail about my son, but now I have a bigger problem.
I want to know every tidbit about his mother as well.
Paying the bill, I slip my card back in my wallet while Kara finishes her coffee. Her fingers trail over the rim of the cup, the nails unpainted but perfectly shaped. I blurt out without thinking, “You still don’t wear polish on your nails.”
It’s as if all the clinking and muted sounds around us cease to exist, and Kara stills. “What did you say?” she asks.
Feeling the heat hit my cheeks, I ignore her question and instead focus on her cup, which is now empty. “Would you like any more?” I ask politely.
“No, thank you.” Standing, she reaches for her jacket, but I’m there to take it from her. Holding it by the collar, I stand there patiently while she slips in one arm, then the other. As she belts it, I lean over her shoulder and whisper, “You’d be surprised at the things I remember, Owl. I’ve got nothing to lose by admitting there’s been no relationship since you that’s meant as much to me.”
As Kara whirls around to face me, I lean closer and murmur, “And it hurts to realize the boy had a chance to have it all, and as a man all I have are memories.” Holding out my arm, I gesture for her to precede me out of the restaurant.
If I didn’t see the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat where her coat gapes, I wouldn’t be certain of the reaction she had to what I said. But my words affected her, maybe more than she’s ready for.
But it’s enough to keep the hope I have for her alive.
Without acknowledging a thing I said, she passes in front of me. I get a whiff of the perfume she wears. It wafts through the air full of feminine power and refinement.
It’s Kara.
And I can’t stop myself from wanting her.
Placing my hand at the small of her back, I guide us between the tables and out the door into the cool night.
A short while later, we’re back at the house—a car ride made in silence. Kara makes to open her door the minute we stop when I lay my hand on her arm. “I’ll be right around,” I advise her, before jumping out.
She doesn’t say a word. Rounding the front of the car, I open it for her, something I know I’ve done a million times but in another life, by another me. Regret swamps me when I realize so many things have been tainted by an immature boy who didn’t realize the precious woman he held then.
We stand in silence in the gravel driveway. “Thank you,” I say suddenly.
“For what? Saying things during dinner that might have offended you? No problem.”
It never occurred to me Kara might be beating herself up for telling me the truth. “You didn’t.”
“I was hoping I hadn’t, but…”
“But what?” I prod.
“I don’t know you anymore, Jennings. I don’t know if you’re being polite or sincere. I don’t have all the facts, and I hate that.” Her frustration is palpable. She tries to duck under my arm to head to the house, but I hold her firm.