Page 68 of Tell Me Again

“I’m sorry. I—ah, fuck, sorry. All you wanted was to make dinner, and I... turn it into this whole big fucking thing. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s...” He lets out a shaky breath, and I almost apologize again, but before I can, he’s kissing me softly. His fingers thread back into my hair. His tongue tastes me. His chest presses against mine.

After a moment, he pulls back, and I can’t quite look at him. I mean, I’m pretty sure I didn’t fuck anything up, because I do believe he loves me. But I can’t help feeling all the fucking negative shit that I always do when I think about everything—how I’d dropped out of school, how I’d been homelessfor a time, how I’m still barely getting by. Fuck.

He guides us over to sit at the table, and he holds my hands in his. We’re both silent for several minutes, then he squeezes my hands lightly. When he speaks, his voice is full of emotion and a little shaky.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea about all that. And I need you to know...” He trails off, and when I risk a look up at him, he’s staring at our hands, his expression tight. He swallows and then continues. “I want you, as you are. I love you, as you are. You’re amazing and strong and compassionate, and you care about the people around you. That’s always been who you are. And I know that’s what your mom would see in you too, if she were here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you, to support you and help you through all that. But I’m here now, and I want to be here with you and support you now... whatever that means. I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

Yeah, I’m fucking crying now. Thanks, Josh.

I shake my head and pull my hand away from his to wipe my eyes. I have absolutely no idea how to respond to any of that.

“I do hope that my cooking makes you happy,” he adds lightly, and he reaches up and touches my cheek, his thumb brushing away another tear. “Because I love to cook. And no offense to Mel, but I think several days in a row of diner food had me wanting a home-cooked meal.”

God, who the fuck is he? Some magic shit is going on right now because he’s somehow got me smiling, even through all my fucking tears.

“I-I do like food.” That’s the best I can do. Sounding like a dumbass again. I hope he loves dumbass me anyway.

He laughs and then stands up and pulls me with him. “We should eat, then, before it gets cold?”

I nod, and together, we get out plates and utensils and set the table. Then, for the first time in the five years I’ve lived here—in this shitty little old house that I can sometimes afford—I’m not alone when I sit down at my kitchen table to eat dinner.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Josh

Dinner gets eaten, and dishes get done. It’s maybe eight by the time we settle on his couch, coffee and slices of chocolate cheesecake on the small table in front of us. He’s just finished telling me about his friend Angie, whom I remember seeing at the diner the other day. He seems to have endless stories about Angie’s dog, Piper, who apparently used to enjoy getting into trouble when she was younger.

It’s definitely a lighter conversation than the one we had just before dinner, and I’m glad he’s been able to relax since then. I’m still trying to not feel guilty for dredging up all those memories of his that are obviously still so difficult for him to talk about. And for whatever part I’d played—not being there for him, him being so alone and struggling on his own for so long.

At least he’d had Mel and Angie.

But my heart hurts, knowing how much he’d really needed his best friend to be there for him, to not have abandoned him right before all that shit happened.

I pick up my plate of cheesecake, and he copies me as he scoots closer.

“The man at the bakery said this is the best cheesecake in town,” I say, and Coop’s silly grin tells me he probably already knows this.

“Mel made it.” He scoops up a forkful and takes a bite. “It definitely is the best, maybe even in all of Nebraska.”

“Is that so?” I lift my own fork, but I’m a little too distracted watching him as he licks the chocolate off his lips.

“I haven’t really traveled much, so you should know better than me,” he says, grinning. “Try it.”

Oh, I definitely want to. I set my plate back down and move closer to him, and he seems to know where I’m going with this, so he meets me partway, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. Our lips meet, and his mouth opens for me, inviting me to taste him. I can’t help moaning as I explore every crevice. It’s sweet, and yeah, the chocolate is phenomenal, and—god. He leans over and sets the cheesecake down on the coffee table, and then he’s somehow pulling me into his lap so I straddle him.

“God, yeah,” I groan, and I come back in for another kiss.

“Yeah?” He smiles and kisses me again. This time, his tongue sweeps through my mouth, and his hands shift to my ass and pull my hips higher up on his thighs. He grunts and tears his mouth away from mine, then lowers his head to my chest.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s really, really good cheesecake,” I say, breathless.

“The best.”

“Probably. I should taste it again, though, to be sure.”

He laughs, then tilts his head up and kisses my neck before wrapping an arm around me, leaning forward, and grabbing his plate from the table. He’s got that same silly smile—god, I just love it—and I’m grinning back as he takes another small bite of the cheesecake, licks the extra chocolate off his lips again, and sets the plate down on the table.

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