He had an armful of plates, green glass, blue glass. He started laying them out on the table in front of the chairs. First a green, then a blue. He went around the table away from me, then laid the last one back at the head of the table within touching distance of me. I'd stayed like some kind of idiot, rooted to the spot, not sure what to say. I couldn't declare undying love, because it's not what I felt. It wasn't.
He moved that small step from the table, and he was suddenly standing right in front of me, close enough that I got a faint whiff of vanilla, and it wasn't the baking. His face was serious, but his eyes held a hint of a smile. He leaned in and laid a kiss on my cheek, while I stood there like an idiot. I was afraid. Afraid that he'd demand that I tell him I loved him, or something equally ridiculous, or equally impossible. But he didn't. He just kissed me, then leaned back with a smile. "I've had hundreds of people tell me they love me, but they didn't mean it. They just wanted to use me. You may never say the words out loud, but you mean them."
The timer buzzed on the oven, and he turned with a smile. "Biscuits are ready." He used a dish towel for a pot holder and took the biscuits out. They were golden brown, and the smell of them filled the kitchen. He took out the second pan, closed the oven, turned it off, and looked at me. "I know how you feel about me now, because you'd have died before saying it in front of Richard, unless it was true. If you never say it again, I'll always value that I heard it once."
He started toward the darkened living room. "I'll tell everybody that breakfast is ready." He stopped at the door and turned back, with a grin on his face that I'd never seen before. One accidental confession, and he was suddenly cocky. "But I still want intercourse." He vanished around the doorframe, trailing a sound of masculine laughter.
Micah came to stand beside me. "Anita, are you alright?" When I didn't answer, he gripped my upper arms, and said, "Look at me."
I blinked too fast and too often, but I looked at him. Things were moving too fast for me. I grabbed his arms and said the first thing that occurred to me. "If I faint, Richard will think I did it because of him."
"You're not going to faint. You never faint." He started easing me into a chair as he finished saying it. I let him, because I was feeling fuzzy around the edges. I didn't want to sit here and have breakfast with these people. I needed some time to think, and the only way to get it was to hide in my bedroom. I couldn't bear to hide. Damn it, for the first time in my life I wished I was a little less stubborn, a little less brave.
My head was between my knees when everyone trooped back in. I didn't faint, but I don't know how, because sitting across from Richard and watching Clair butter his biscuits made me wish I had.
Nathaniel laid out silverware, fetched more coffee, made sure we had at least six kinds of jam, jelly, and preserves. When had there ever been red currant jelly in my refrigerator? I looked at this man bustling about my kitchen, and knew the answer, since Nathaniel had been doing the grocery shopping.
Part of me wanted to run away, but the other small part of me that usually saves me from being a total pain in the ass was wondering if they made those white frilly aprons wide enough to fit over Nathaniel's shoulders. I mean if he was going to play Suzy Homemaker, didn't he need an apron, and maybe a string of pearls? The thought made me giggle, and I couldn't stop it, and I couldn't share it. I ended up having to excuse myself from the table to let the laughter have its way with me. By the time Micah found me, the laughter had given way to tears again. Nathaniel didn't come looking for us. I was glad, except for a small part of me that kept expecting him to come through the door. I was ready to be angry if he came, and disappointed if he didn't. Some days