Page 42 of Look My Way
“Another gift from your sister?”
He inhales deeply, not exhaling until his eyes are back on mine. “Yeah.”
“I bet it’s cute.”
His lips shake and he looks down, appearing bashful. “It’s just an apron.”
“Yeah, on anyone else, but I’m sure it’s way more than that on you. Especially when you have nothing underneath it, like Lex when he cooked dinner for his fiancé while his stalker watched through the window.”
“You’ve reached that far in the book?” His words come out broken.
“Sí, carino. I’m way past it actually, and we can continue from there if you’d like.”
“What do you mean?” His bottom lip turns inward, nose twitching.
“I think you know exactly what I mean. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it out loud right now. You will when you’re ready. You can show me instead. You’ll know . . . whenever it feels safe for you to.”
Fumbling with the hem of his shirt, his toes turn inward, and he looks perplexed. “Going to go start on those sandwiches. I’ll bring them out when I’m done.”
“Sounds good.” That means he won’t be wearing the apron when he makes me lunch today. He didn’t have to say the words for me to know when he’ll have it on. In his book, Lex, the main character, wears it to cook dinner for his fiancé, knowing the man couldn’t care less what he was wearing or not wearing underneath. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t for him.
Lifting the front of my shirt to wipe my brow, I go back to drilling. I take my time, attaching each piece of wood, remeasuring everything twice and taking unnecessary extra steps. Anything I can do to make this one-week job a three-week one.
Getting lost in the sound of my drill, I don’t hear Liam return back outside. He shouts my name, holding two plates in his hand as he squints his eyes.
“Sorry.” I shut off the drill, wiping my face again and shaking the front of my shirt. It’s a lot hotter when I’m no longer focused on something other than the sun biting at my skin. “I kinda lose myself in work sometimes.”
“That’s okay.” The corners of his mouth curl and he sets both plates down.
Setting down my tools, I rub my hands on my jeans and pull out some wipes from my bag.
“You’re very prepared. What else do you have in that handy bag of yours?”
“You’ll see, all in good time.” I wink.
Snorting, he sits down and reaches for his plate. I walk toward him, sliding the chair close to his before sitting down, and like the last time we ate together, I rest my hand palm up on my leg, my pinky rubbing over his. His breath hitches and his left hand stays still while his right one lifts the first half of his sandwich.
It’s not until he’s working on the second that he lays his hand on mine. Minutes later his fingers squeeze over my knuckles, and we finish eating in silence. He hums between each bite, and even when he’s done devouring his last chip, he keeps holding my hand. I don’t go back to work until he’s ready to let go, and I occasionally sneak a glance at him writing while I work for another hour on my first planter box, taking as much as he’s willing to give me while the sun is out.
Twenty
Liam
Daniel arrives home just as Zavier is driving away. They wave at each other and Daniel smiles at me, moving toward the front of the house. “Hey, baby. How are the planter boxes coming along?”
“Good. I finished my book today too.”
“Oh, good. That means a break real soon then . . . just like we talked about, right?”
“Yeah.” I step to the side as he enters the house, kicking off his shoes. He pecks me on the lips, holding his plastic smile.
“You’ll feel much better after you take it too, I’m sure.”
“I feel fine now. I’ve been invited to dinner tomorrow with a few of the other writers from the same publishing company and I’m thinking about going.”
“Is it a requirement?” He kicks the door shut behind him, jaw tightening.
“No, but sounds like it’ll be a good way to make new friends and network.”
