to be doing this with her. The weather is mild for the beginning of March. The air has a slight chill to it, but not enough to make me cold.
Once we’re inside Decadence, a popular dessert bar, we find an empty table in the corner and sit down. I make sure I pull her chair out for her. I’m out of practice when it comes to wooing a woman, but if I’m honest, I’m not sure I’ve ever been good at it. I want to be though. I want to be the best man I can be for her, I’m just not sure my best will be enough.
She orders cheesecake and I order the triple chocolate cake, both of us agreeing to share with each other.
“Where did you grow up?” I ask her even though I already know the answer to this question. I want her to be comfortable talking to me and I want to know everything about her.
“I grew up about twenty minutes from here in Belmont.” She studies her nails, avoiding eye contact with me.
I know this conversation isn’t something she wants to be having. “Do your parents still live there?” God, I hate doing this to her, but I have no choice. How can I explain already knowing the answers to these questions? I can’t. I must remain committed to my original plan. A flicker of sadness passes over her face before she answers me.
“No, both of my parents died in a house fire right before the start of my freshman year of college.” She nervously spins her bracelet around and around her wrist.
I don’t say anything. I sit there in silence waiting for her to continue. I know there’s more for her to tell me.
Her blue eyes raise to meet mine. “My high school boyfriend and I were also in the house, but I’m the only one who survived.”
I cover her hand with mine, squeezing it gently and waiting for her to continue.
“They were never able to determine the cause of the fire.” She turns over the hand resting beneath mine, and I align our palms.
“I’m sorry for your loss, I know there aren’t words to take the pain away. I wish you hadn’t gone through so much.”
“Thank you, it’s easier for me to talk about it now. What about you? Where did you grow up?”
“I grew up in South Boston. I have a sister, Kenna, she’s eight years younger than me. My parents are no longer with us. They were killed in a drunk driving accident ten years ago.”
This time she squeezes my hand and I love how soft and tiny hers is.
Her nails are painted a light blue, a small detail which makes me wonder if she has a frivolous side she keeps hidden. “I’m sorry for your loss. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone else who’s lost both of their parents on the same day. What happened to Kenna when they passed? Who took care of her?”
She’s sweet to be concerned for Kenna and I like how she genuinely cares about other people. The more I learn about her, the deeper I fall.
“I took care of Kenna. I was twenty-three at the time of their death and the only option she had.”
She takes a bite of her cheesecake and rinses it down with a sip of water before continuing. “So that means you’re thirty-three now.” She raises an eyebrow and waits for me to confirm it.
“Yes, I’m thirty-three. Does that make me too old for you?”
I hope it doesn’t.
My stomach tightens anxiously as I wait for her answer.
“No, I’ve never been one to get hung up on age. I’m twenty-two and an adult who can make my own decisions. I know what’s right for me.”
“Am I right for you?” I ask, my voice sounding hoarse to my own ears.
Her eyes rise from her plate to meet mine and I swear I can almost see the sexual tension flowing between us. “That remains to be seen.”
I was pleasantly surprised when Janny agreed to let me drive her home. I’m thrilled she’s already feeling more comfortable with me.
The ride to her apartment passes mostly in silence, but there’s no awkwardness at all. My gaze repeatedly strays from the road, to her. Our eyes keep connecting and smiles are shared.
She directs me to the apartment building where she lives and once the car is parked, I jump out and walk around to open her door for her. She seems surprised I’m observing this small