Page 34 of Keep You Close

Of course, though, doing that kind of felt like a betrayal too. Because they would immediately know it was about AJ, since there was no one else in my life at the moment.

If it wasn’t something she was sharing with anyone, it wasn’t my place to share it either.

Where did that leave me?

With my instincts?

Which, yeah, weren’t great at this sort of shit.

What can I say? When you spent your life hopping countries and continents, you didn’t exactly get to know any woman longer than a weekend or a week-long fling.

I never had to deal with the emotional side of things. And I felt really ill-equipped to do it now.

I let Samson back in, then on a wild hair, placed an order on my phone before moving back into the living room to rearrange the couch, setting it up for two.

If I couldn’t press her, and I didn’t know what else I could say, the least I could do was… be there, right? Maybe even distract her a little.

It was about half an hour later when she came back out, changed into an oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants featuring little hearts, her hair pulled back in a clip, which only highlighted the fact that she’d been crying with her red eyes and splotchy cheeks.

“I ordered us some dessert,” I told her. “Thought maybe we could watch a movie and stuff our faces.”

“Oh,” she said, looking taken aback. Like maybe she wanted to get me to bed, then fall into her own and finish her cry in private. But then, little by little, I saw her relax a bit. “Okay. What movie?” she asked.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Your willingness to watch something musical.”

“I’m game,” I said, shrugging. Even if the only ‘musicals’ I’d ever seen were Disney movies when I was a kid. “What is it?”

“State Fair,” she said. “But only the 1945 version.”

“Old movie buff, huh?”

“When I was a kid, both sets of my grandparents lived with us. They showed me all their favorites. And they became mine. My maternal grandmother’s favorite was State Fair. My favorite. And my paternal grandmother loved The Philadelphia Story, which is my second favorite.”

“And your grandfathers’ favorites?”

“Well,” she said, grimacing. “One of them loved the 1960 Spartacus. And I really don’t like that one. The other loved It Happened One Night, which I also love. Scandalous for its time,” she added. “A shirtless Cary Grant and a lady lifting her skirt to show off her leg to hail a ride.”

“I’m clutching my pearls,” I said, making her giggle. And, hey, for just a second there, she forgot. And that was the goal.

“Alright. That’s the food,” I said when the headlights pulled in the driveway. “If you grab that, I’ll find the movie.”

With that, I did, and she spread the food across the coffee table.

“I think you went a little crazy,” she said as she helped me move onto the couch.

“I didn’t know what you might be in the mood for,” I said.

“Chocolate,” she said, immediately reaching for one of the giant brownies, then pulling one of my blankets over her, and settling in as I turned on the movie.

It wasn’t long until she started to relax, humming and singing along quietly, then glancing over at me to gauge my reaction.

I wouldn’t say musicals were my thing, but it was actually a decent movie with a love story that wasn’t sickeningly sweet.

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