Page 9 of The Fox

“There is a lake near where I grew up that you have to travel by foot. Once you reach the end of the paved road, it is nothing but wilderness. There are pine trees as far as you can see and the lake is small, but that sky? It is enough to make a man appreciate something greater than himself.” His eyes close and I feel a smile playing with my lips. “I remember sitting on that pebbled bank, watching the birds come in and feeling the wind play with nature. I haven’t found another place that compares.”

“That sounds wonderful.” My mind whirls thinking of my upbringing. “I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced that kind of beauty.”

The reality of my life is that there isn’t much joy in the madness. I have but one place where I can let everything fall down and I don’t have to hold the world on my shoulders.

“What about you? Where are you happiest?”

“I have a cat, Lennon. He’s this grumpy Maine Coon who hates everyone but, somehow, we work well. On Sundays, I make cinnamon pancakes and Lennon steals some pieces of banana off the counter while I cook. He’s the silliest thing, but I love him.” He smiles softly, listening to me ramble. “My home is probably where I’m happiest, honestly. Hearing Lennon chirp if I don’t give him his treats fast enough, being able to put on my comfy clothes? Yeah, I like that.”

The conversation has been easy, and I relax into my chair, removing the napkin from my lap. Spotting our waiter, I lift my hand. I want dessert.

The man doesn’t address me, speaking directly to Rhodes. “Is there anything else I can get you?”Fuck this.I respond, keeping my tone controlled.

“Yes,” I say, slightly turning so that I am fully facing the man. “I will take the tiramisu, please.” A slight sneer forms on the waiter’s face, and despite trying to hide it, he obviously doesn’t approve of something I’ve said. I inhale, holding to the hope I won’t have to be aggressive. All I want is tiramisu—without a side of patriarchy, for the love of all things.

“Have you seen the other options, miss?”

Tonight is no different, then.

I straighten, placing one hand on the table. “I asked for the tiramisu. I did not stutter, did I?” I glance at Rhodes, waiting for him to interject but he just smiles knowingly. I continue, my voice clear. “If I wanted to know the specials, I’d have asked for the owner, demanding you tell him that Amelia Conte would like to speak with him.” The waiter pales at the mention of my name. “Now, are we going to have a problem?”

Running my tongue along the ridges of my lips, I watch the waiter’s jaw tighten as the realization dawns. I will not be made a fool, not here—not ever. His eyes dart to Rhodes, who simply sits expectantly. One quirk of an eyebrow forces the waiter to return his attention to me.

“Well?” I question, refusing to yield. “Is there a problem?” A shake of his head is the only answer I receive. “Good.” I face Rhodes once again, asking if he’d like dessert as well.

His eyes are sparkling once more, boring into me in a way that should make me squirm. It only leaves me breathless. “I’ll have the gelato,” he says, never breaking eye contact. With a nod, we are alone again.

I want to eat my favorite dessert in my favorite restaurant. That’s all. I place my hands on the table, my left thumb picking at the pad of my right index finger. I hate when I have to blur the line of personal and professional.

I don’t notice Rhodes reaching for my hands until it is too late and his skin is on mine. I flinch, pulling my hands back toward myself.

I feel her hands, gentle and soft; a complete opposite to what I’ve experienced otherwise tonight, and it hurts in a way I know it shouldn’t. Her touch shouldn’t hurt. This is Parker, my best friend, and all my body can do is shout in pain.

My eyes turn downcast and I can feel shame begin to creep into my mind. I shouldn’t flinch at the simple reach of his hands for mine. Rhodes isn’tthem.

“Your dessert.” I hear the waiter, but I don’t move my eyes.

A plate of liquor-soaked sponge is now sitting before me and I can’t bring myself to lift the spoon. The mood is ruined and I softly ask for a carryout box. I’ll eat it later—most likely in my sweats at midnight.

Alone.

The waiter returns, box and check in-hand. Rhodes pays, and we make our way to the door. Rhodes lets me lead but I can feel his handjustat the small of my back. Once we reach the sidewalk, I spin on my heel, wanting to explain what just happened.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to go south. I honestly didn’t think that ordering tiramisu would be a big deal.”

“Amelia.”

Ignoring the man currently illuminated by the city lights the way the sun shines through the trees in a morning fog, I open my mouth to say something as Rhodes takes one step toward me, then another. Another step. He’s now too close.He can’t be that close.

He dips his head, a softness lacing his voice as he speaks. “Always get the tiramisu.”

I take a small step back, putting distance between us, and I see the understanding cross his face.

“You are safe with me, Amelia.” I know this, intrinsically. My head is shouting at me that I can’t trust a man, but my heart is aggressively whispering that Rhodes is a safe space. My heart wants me to trust him.

“I had a good time tonight,” he says quietly. “I’d like to see you again, if you’d let me?”

I worry my lips together, gripping the brown carryout container in my hands tighter than I should. One more date couldn’t hurt right?You don’t know if this was a date, Ames. It could just be dinner between two people. Don’t get your hopes up.

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