Page 25 of Living for Truth
It was an impulsive decision to kiss her cheek when I saw her, and my lips are still tingling from the brief contact. Then, when I grabbed her hand, I half expected fucking sparkles or some magical glow when ours fingers interlocked. Why? Because it felt like pure magic holding her hand.
I can’t even imagine what would happen if we kissed. It would probably feel like taking a bite of your favorite dessert. Decadent, delicious, and impossible to stop after one. Making love to her would feel like a baptism, acleansing of my soul that would erase every other person I’ve touched until it’s only her.
Of course, that won’t be happening—at least not anytime soon—but a guy can dream.
Hannah brings me back to reality with a gentle, “Where are you taking me?”
“Have you ever been to Fondue Frenzy?”
“Oooh. No! That’s the place where you get a big pot of cheese, right?” Her excitement is contagious. I’m glad I chose this place.
I chuckle. “Among other things. They have a whole three course meal experience we’ll be enjoying tonight.”
Hannah does a little happy dance then sighs. “Ugh, I love cheese. Liam, my ex, never wanted to venture out and try new places. He was content with fast food joints or the three other restaurants we frequented.” I glance over and notice she’s frowning. “Now that I think about it, he never really took me out the last three years of our marriage. I think he was embarrassed by me.”
My fingers tighten on the gearshift, and my jaw clenches. Icannotfathom how anyone would be embarrassed by this woman. “That’s so boring. I can’t imagine not trying new places. I love the places I love, but sometimes you just have to try something new.” And then, because I apparently like upsetting myself, I ask, “Why would he be embarrassed of you?”
“Because I gained a lot of weight after…” she trails off, like she doesn’t want to finish the thought. Damn, I’m so curious, but I won’t force her. She clears her throat. “After some medical issues, he didn’t like that my body wasn’t the same as when I was eighteen.”
Well, fuck him all the way to hell. “That’s awful, Han. I’m so sorry. You deserve much better than that.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I like that you’re calling me Han. I’ve never had a nickname. Well, other than ‘babe.’”
“‘Babe’ is so unoriginal. My nicknames for significant others are never that boring.”
“What would you call me if we were, you know,actuallydating?” she questions.
I pause like I’m thinking really hard, but the truth is I already know. I’ve been calling her “Butterfly” in my head since the flower shop. Then there’s the obvious “my love.” But it’s a bit soon for that.
“‘Butterfly’ or ‘sunflower,’” I finally say, grateful we’re almost to the restaurant so I can turn and see her reaction.
“Why those?”
“Butterflies are hard to catch, delicate, and absolutely stunning. I thought of the nickname when you left the shop because it felt like you slipped right through my fingers. Sunflowers are a symbol for resilience and can grow in adverse conditions. You’ve gone through a lot of shit and are still bright and beautiful.”
I pull into the parking lot of the restaurant and turn in time to catch the flush from her cheeks work its way down her neck and disappear beneath the modest neckline of her shirt. I’m dying to know if it goes all the way to her chest.
“Those are very nice nicknames. I don’t have one for you, though,” Hannah finally says.
I grin. “That’s okay, Han. You’ll think of something, I’m sure. Now come on, let’s go get some cheese.”
I round the car and open her door before she can respond. I don’t hold her hand this time, even though I want to. There’s no reason we have to pretend to be dating here. We’re just two pals hanging out, eating cheese.
We’re halfway to the door when Hannah stops in her tracks.
“What’s wrong?” I’m immediately looking around for any signs of danger and follow her gaze to a yellow Dodge Charger.
“That’s Liam’s car.”
“It could be someone else’s?” I suggest, but she would know better than I do.
She shakes her head, her hair flying around her face. “I know it’s his because of the stupid vanity plate I begged him not to get.”
I glance down at the license plate that says “HEISRZN” and frown. “What does it mean?”
“‘He is risen.’ Like, Jesus is risen. I told him it was douchey because it’s a double entendre, but he just waggled his eyebrows and said, ‘Yeah it is.’” She pitches her voice lower to mimic his and then cringes.
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. “Of course he would say that. What would you like to do? Would you like to go somewhere else?”
