lock it and turn around to face Carissa. “I’m so sorry. My daughter is always ready for the next big thing. Plus, she loves going over to my parents’ house and hanging out with them and my siblings.”
She chuckles softly. “It’s okay, really. She is adorable. Your sister seems very nice too.”
“She can be a real pain in the ass,” I say, shrugging.
She laughs. “Aren’t all sisters?”
I nod. “True that.” I remember her telling me things her older sister used to do to her when they were growing up. They were all jokes, and Carissa would do the same to her sister at any chance she got, but since Carissa was younger, her sister got her a hell of a lot more.
“Please, have a seat.” I motion toward the couch.
We sit fairly close to one another, and the sudden urge to kiss her—the one I felt last time we were together—comes rushing back. Sure, I was in awe of her when I first saw her, but I think because Gianna was here, it was holding me back from feeling what I am now… how much I want this woman, right here on my couch.
Damn, where the hell did that come from? I’ve been very physically attracted to her since the first moment I saw her, but actually considering touching her is something new… at least admitting it to myself is. I’ve wanted to kiss her for a while. I’ve thought about it plenty of times, and I’ve come close to doing it. But now, admitting to myself that I want her right here and right now, that’s something new.
And I want her in every sense of the word. If this were back in the day before I met Sylvia, I would have made a move on Carissa already. I would have taken her into my arms and kissed her fiercely, lying her back on this couch.
But not today. Today, I’m reserved, and although Lord knows I want to make a move, I won’t do it.
“So, are you still close to her mother?” Carissa asks, bringing me out of my very inappropriate thoughts.
I furrow my brows. “Whose mother?”
“Your daughter’s?”
Oh, crap. That’s right. We never discussed her mother, my late wife. I’m not used to someone addressing Sylvia as just Gianna’s mother. It was always your wife… even though she’s gone. Addressing her as just Gianna’s mother seems like we’re no longer together, not that she’s passed away. Of course Carissa is assuming Sylvia and I broke up. Any normal person wouldn’t automatically assume someone else has passed away.
I swallow hard and take a deep breath.
Carissa takes notice and her expression changes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just—”
“No, no. It’s fine.” I struggle with finding my next words, but somehow, I make it through without bringing myself to tears. “Her mother, my wife… She passed away when Gianna was just a baby.”
Carissa’s mouth forms an O as she gasps. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I shake my head. “You couldn’t have… I don’t typically bring her up in conversation. I had a hard time pushing through it for the longest time…”
She nods. “I can understand that. It seems you did great with Gianna.”
A small smile forms on my face. “Thanks. I had a lot of help from my family.”
“It’s great they’re there for you.”
I nod. “I don’t know where I would be without them.”
She smiles, not saying anything further.
I stand and say, “Hey, I think it’s just about done. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable, and I’ll see if it’s ready.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“That was delicious. Have you always been such a wonderful cook?” Carissa asks with a smile.
I take a sip of wine and shake my head. “Definitely not. I learned a few things once I became a daddy. Since I live here alone with my daughter, I need to make sure I feed her good, nutritious food. You can thank my mother for that recipe.”
She laughs. “Maybe I will.”
Her words have a lot more meaning than I realized before I heard them. Maybe she will…
She’d have to meet my mother for it to happen, or talk to her on the phone. Either way, it’s a lot.
Maybe it’s too much.
But maybe it’s time.
As we sit on the couch in the living room of my place, I lean in a bit closer to her. I know it’s either now or never. If I’m not ready to do this now, will I ever be?
I need to take the next step,