Second Chance Family - Cindy Kirk Page 0,67
that exact moment to complain about her skipping lunch.
“It’s hand-tossed pepperoni from Perfect Pizza.”
Meg could feel herself waver. Her favorite kind from her favorite place. Of course, she could always have the leftover meatloaf in the fridge. “Okay. One slice.”
It was the adult thing to do, she told herself. She and Cole needed to try to get along—at least superficially—for Charlie’s sake.
He held out his hand.
She drew back. Surely he didn’t expect her to put her hand in his? No matter how good he smelled or how handsome he looked, that wasn’t happening.
“Your coat.” The twitch in his lips told her he’d read her mind. “I’ll hang it up while you put your bags away.”
She could feel the heat rise up her neck. If she’d been thinking clearly she’d have known that’s what he wanted. One thing she had to say for Cole, he’d always had the nicest manners. “Thank you.”
As she handed the coat over to him, their fingers brushed. A flash of heat traveled up her arm. She wondered if he felt it, too. But she didn’t look at him, because it didn’t matter.
Still, seeing him, being near him, brought those old feelings flooding back. Perhaps having dinner together wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
“You know,” she said slowly, “I’m really not that hungry.”
Instead of joking around and trying to keep things light as he had the past couple of days, his expression grew serious. “This could be one of our last evenings together. It’d be good to get some closure, to not leave anything that we want to say to each other unsaid.”
A feeling of pure panic rose inside her. Meg didn’t want to talk anymore, to think anymore, to hurt anymore. “I’ve already said everything.”
“You don’t have to talk. Have a slice of pepperoni and relax.”
Meg hesitated. It wouldn’t take long to eat one slice. And, she reminded herself, he had followed through and promised in writing not to pursue sole custody. Not to mention he hadn’t tried to push her out the door. If he could make a few big concessions, she could make a small one.
“Okay. I’ll put these sacks away and meet you in the kitchen.” Meg walked away without waiting for a response, wishing she had the guts to simply ignore his request.
When she reached her bedroom, she dropped the sacks on the bed. But instead of hurrying down the stairs, she took a moment to run a brush through her hair and put on a little lipstick. Not for Cole, she told herself, but because looking her best would give her the confidence she needed to get through one slice of pizza.
He smiled when she walked into the kitchen. The table was set with a red-and-white-checkered cloth, topped by a bouquet of daisies.
She widened her eyes when she saw the centerpiece, unable to stop the rush of pleasure. “Daisies are my favorite flowers.”
“I remember.”
Meg wasn’t sure what to make of the comment, so she turned her attention back to the table. For some reason Cole had chosen to use Fiesta plates instead of the paper ones they usually brought out when they had pizza. A can of her favorite cola sat next to a glass of ice on the table.
But it was the photograph next to Cole’s plate that drew Meg’s attention. She gestured with one hand toward the snapshot. “What is that?”
“I found it when I was going through my stuff. I thought you might like to have it.” He pulled out her chair and stood behind it, waiting for her to take a seat.
The tantalizing scent of pepperoni hung in the air, and Meg knew that even if she wanted to walk away, her stomach—and curiosity—wouldn’t let her. She only hoped they could eat in silence like they had the past couple of days.
Once Cole was settled in his seat, with pizza on his plate and soda in his glass, Meg picked up her slice. She took a bite, the pepperoni spicy against her tongue.
She looked up to find Cole’s gaze on her, his eyes dark and inscrutable. Her heart skipped a beat at the raw emotion simmering in his eyes.
A sudden ache of longing for what might have been washed over her, startling her with its intensity. Meg found herself blinking back unexpected tears.
If Cole noticed, he gave no indication. After she’d returned the napkin to her lap, he slid the picture across the table until it rested in front of her.
Meg glanced down. She couldn’t help