Page 39 of Home With You

"And lied about the reason why," I point out.

"I didn't lie. Gladys is sick. Didn't you hear her coughing? I can't leave her when she's like that."

"You said she's always like that."

"She is but—that's not the point. I don't like leaving her."

"You leave her every day when you go looking for food."

"That's different." She folds her arms over her chest, glancing to the side.

"You never planned to have dinner with me, did you?"

She doesn't answer.

"So you're the liar, not me."

Her eyes dart back to me. "I'm not a liar. And I never said you were."

"You did. Last night. You said all lawyers are liars, and yet you're the one who lied."

"I didn't lie," she insists.

"You said you'd have dinner with me, knowing you never planned to."

She looks down, then back up at me. "Okay, yeah, I lied. I never planned to have dinner with you but I had to agree to it last night so you'd go away."

I cock my head. "You really wanted me to go away?"

Her eyes are red and I wonder if it's from allergies or because she's fighting back tears. She's trying really hard to hide how she feels but I can feel her sadness. Is it because of me? Do I make her sad? I hope not.

"Raine, if you want me to go away, just say so. But don't just say it because you think you should. Say it because it's what you really want."

She blinks a few times and I notice the wetness in her eyes but her face remains stoic.

"It's not—" She takes a breath. "It's not what I want. I wanted to go. I just..." She looks down.

"If you wanted to go, then why are you trying to cancel on me?" I ask, softening my voice. "It's just dinner. It doesn't have to be a date or anything more than just two people getting to know each other."

Her eyes go to mine. "Why would you want that? I don't understand."

"Why wouldn't I want to have dinner with a beautiful girl who's also funny and has a great smile and great laugh and who I find fascinating and amazing and can't stop thinking about?" I pause. "Good question. It does seem odd, doesn't it?"

She smiles. "You don't really think that."

I step closer. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

She looks to the side, biting her lip.

"What is it?" I ask. "What's wrong?"

"I don't—" She looks down. "I don't have anything to wear. I mean, anything clean."

My heart aches hearing her say it. That's the reason she won't go with me. The real reason. Because she's embarrassed. Ashamed. Her clothes are dirty and I'm guessing she has no way to clean them, or herself. But she doesn't smell. And her hair looks clean. Does she go someplace to shower? I have so many questions but I'm afraid to ask.

"I have some gym clothes in my car," I say, trying to lighten the mood. "But I'm about a hundred pounds heavier and a lot taller than you so they probably won't fit."

Her head lifts and she looks at me like I'm serious. "That won't work."

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