but I could tell how badly he wanted to see me. I could see it in his eyes.
"I would have been here," I whispered, staring at him.
"You would've?" he asked, staring back at me.
I nodded and smiled, and then I decided to move. I took his hand and pulled him over to a couch. The lobby was gigantic with seating areas and rooms that led to other hallways. I scanned our surroundings, knowing we had options, but I liked where I had been sitting, so I picked a spot on the same couch.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked.
"To the couch to hang out," I said.
I was wound-up from surprising Drew, but mostly I was just happy to see him and so relieved that he wanted to see me.
"I feel like I'm dreaming right now," he said holding my hand tightly.
"I feel like I'm dreaming too. Of course, that might be the malnourishment talking."
"You're hungry? What can I get for you?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. "Really, let me call you in some food. Do you want pizza? Chinese?"
"Chinese," I said.
"Noodles or rice?"
"Noodles," I said.
"Okay, I'll be right back," he said. He gripped my forearms. "Don't go anywhere."
I smiled.
"Don't."
My smile broadened. "Don't worry, I won't."
I watched as Drew went to the desk and talked to Alex, and before I knew it, he was on his way across the lobby to meet me again. I didn't stand up. I just waited for him to come sit next to me. He sat in the corner of the couch, and I turned to face him, kicking my leg onto the couch and getting comfortable.
He looked at me for a second before he reached out. "Come here," he said.
I leaned in, going to him, curling up next to him.
We stayed like that for the next thirty minutes until our food arrived. Then we sat on that same couch and ate Chinese noodles straight out of the box with wooden chopsticks. Thankfully, using chopsticks was a strong suit of mine. I had my father to thank for that.
My dad had learned to use chopsticks when he spent some time overseas in the war. He had fun using them, and he always took a few extra packs of the disposable ones they gave out at Chinese restaurants so he could teach us how.
I had gotten good at them to impress my father. I had been a daddy's girl since the day they told me I was being adopted. I had always sought his approval, and getting great at using chopsticks had been a biproduct of wanting to impress him.
I used to keep the disposable chopsticks until after dinner, wash them off, and then use them in my room on objects like ponytail holders and paperclips. We had this container of plastic and wooden beads for stringing on necklaces, and I would practice on those, so I had gotten used to managing small, slippery objects. Noodles were easy for me, and I loved that Drew was impressed.
He had ordered two boxes of the same thing, but we ate out of the same box. He was probably meaning to hand me the box when he opened the first one, but instead of taking it from him, I just reached in with my chopsticks and got a bite like I expected us to share.
"You can get it for me," he said, after taking a bite or two on his own. He held the box toward me.
"Are you asking me to get you a bite?"
"Yes," he said. "Please."
"Are you okay with me using my chopsticks? Or do you want me to get it with yours?"
"Yours are fine," he said with an easy smile. "I don't see why we can't share chopsticks. I'm about to kiss you, anyway."
"You are?" I asked. I stabbed the chopsticks into the box nervously, trying to get a perfect bite together. I found that I was better at using chopsticks when I wasn't getting a bite of food for Drew. I reached out and held onto the bottom of the box so that I could get better leverage. My fingers touched his when I did, and that just proved the fact that I was done for. One simple touch of the fingertips, and every cell in my body felt alive with anticipation.
Somehow, I gathered a good bite and fed it to him. I was accustomed to feeding my son food, but this was different. I was looking at his mouth when I put it in