Page 70 of Coffee Shop Girl
“Sorry,” I heard myself say. “I’m a bit blunt.”
Her eyes widened as they met mine. She blinked, then relaxed.
“A little.”
“I just meant that...” Setting aside the pizza, I leaned onto my hands, meeting her increasingly concerned gaze. “My parents were married in name only for much of my life. They had long been out of love, and obligation held them together. Because of that, they sort of ... lost respect for each other. Their lives ran parallel and never intersected.”
“Oh,” she murmured, as if that explained it all.
She didn’t even know the half of it.
“When I was twelve, my father was surfing during a family vacation in California. He fell hard. The board came up and nailed his back. Thanks to my older brother being right there, Dad didn’t drown. But he broke his back.”
“Was he paralyzed?”
As if the injury could transfer, I put a hand on my back, reliving the horror of it all over again.
“He lost all function from the waist down. Luckily, all five of us boys were old enough that we didn’t need him to chase us around the house in diapers, so my mom went back to work. Dad became bitter, and angry, and determined that none of his sons would ever be incompetent, the way he felt.”
Which is why he was gone now. But no need to go that deep.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Me too.”
The fading sunset had nothing on the natural glow coming from Bethany’s eyes as she stared at me like a quiet, intrigued statue. Her clothes looked snug and comfortable, like she’d curl up around me on the couch all day. Something I wanted more than anything right then.
Should have requested she wear a dirty potato sack.
Her hair swept her shoulders in silky black waves. I wanted to wrap my fingers around them and tug her lips back to mine. Maybe then she wouldn’t affect me. But she would, which is why I’d left a counter between us.
“So, you’re afraid of long-term commitment that could end like your parents’ relationship?” she asked.
No.I’m afraid of disappointing you,I thought.Because I was always a disappointment to Dad.
My gaze dropped to the counter.
“Something like that.”
Commitment seemed so blasé compared to what really lingered in my head. The truth wouldn’t encourage her to put up with me. If she had any sense, she’d leave now before pizza turned into a movie, that turned into cuddling, that turned into a depth of emotion I couldn’t even tap into right now.
She quirked her lips in thought. The silence lasted for several moments before she gave me a wry smile.
“You could always stay.” A wistful tone had overtaken her voice. “Stay in tiny little Pineville with me and my three big attachments, where you’ll always be good enough, no matter what.”
Something thick clogged my throat. I cleared it. “Now it’s my turn to ask a deep question,” I said, straightening.
Her brow lifted. “Oh?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that your father was an amputee? Few people know this world even half as well as you do if you’ve lived with someone who lost a leg.”
A strand of hair fell into her eyes. “My dad hated it when his prosthetic became a topic of conversation. Aside from a few little things, it didn’t really stop him from doing what he wanted. He used to wear shorts all the time just to prove it.” Her lips twitched into a sad grin. “He was larger-than-life that way.”
“He sounds like a guy I would have liked to have a beer with.”
She slid easily into details about her dad, which brought out the light in her even more. My exact plan.
The tension from lack of sleep faded quickly as she spoke, weaving a story with her animated hands. Her adoration was apparent in her voice. Darkness settled on the cabin, and stars glimmered through the windows. The night symphony started up, but I only had eyes for her.
