Page 39 of We Can Stay
Not since my divorce have I felt this optimistic about another person. For years, I’ve been throwing myself into work, into meeting my goals, into perfecting the vision that I have for my life. Yes, there have been women here and there, but they’ve never caught my attention the way Flick does.
With her, it’s like I’ve been knocked out of orbit. I’m still recalibrating, accepting the fact that her gravitational pull is changing me.
And I welcome it.
My phone beeps again, a reminder that the day and all of its responsibilities are waiting.
“I have to go.” I run my thumb gently over her lower lip. “Can I text you later?”
Desire flashes in her eyes, and she leans toward me. “You don’t have to ask.”
That makes me grin big. “I’ll try not to text too much.” I give her what’s meant to be a short kiss, but it turns into a long, heated one.
Using all the self-control I possess, I break away and stand up. “Have a good day.”
“You too.” She smiles up at me, an angel with sleepy eyes and swollen pink lips.
As hard as it is, I leave her condo—but only because I know this morning isn’t the end; it’s the beginning of something wonderful. Something real. Something worth protecting.
CHAPTER 12
Flick
The early afternoon sun beats down on my shoulders as I cross the street and head into Pine Island’s downtown. It’s a beautiful day following four other beautiful days. And I feel happy.
Since Sebastian’s first night at my place, we’ve seen each other every night. That includes dinner at his house twice, though we always go back to my condo since that’s where the kitten is. He’s got a great place, but it has a kind of cold, sad aura to it. It looks and feels more like a model house than an actual lived-in home full of joy and comfort.
Empty walls where pictures should hang, pristine surfaces that never seem touched. It makes sense, though, since he’s hardly ever there. I can tell he likes my condo—the overstuffed couch covered in yarn samples, the bed with a great view of the trees in back, the kitten running around like the little menace she is.
And I like having him there. A lot.
Even though our days have been packed with our individual work and priorities, our nights have been exclusively for each other. For our touches. Our whispers. The laughter at midnight when Cat decides my toes are the enemy.
As busy as I am, it seems that I suddenly have time for him. Just like he has time for me. Even though we only just started dating, he always makes space for me in the day, even if it’s a quick phone call between surgeries or popping into Knit Happens to say hi, still wearing his scrubs with that exhausted-but-happy look.
He treats me like I’m worth putting things on hold for, which I’m starting to see might just be my love language.
And it hasn’t been scary. It hasn’t made me want to run away or feel like I might throw up.
It’s been…amazing.
I pause at the crosswalk, waiting for old Mr. Davidson’s truck to rumble past, and catch my reflection in the bakery window. Do I look different? Happier? That woman in the glass with the slight smile and wind-tossed hair doesn’t look like someone who keeps everyone at arm’s length.
My phone buzzes. Another Instagram notification. My follower count has been climbing steadily—almost two thousand now. But when I check, it’s another comment from @JustRaveled1018:Love how the morning light catches those copper tones in your latest skein. Pine Island mornings are magical, aren’t they?
My stomach does an uncomfortable flip. I posted that skein photo at 6 AM. And I definitely didn’t mention it was morning or anything about Pine Island. The photo was cropped tight on the yarn.
I shake it off. Maybe they just assumed. Yarn people notice light quality. It’s fine.
I wasn’t lying when I told Sebastian I’ll always find time for him. Not that I planned on saying that; the words just flew from my mouth—flew from my mouth because they were the truth I hadn’t even known was inside me.
With Sebastian, things feel straightforward. Simple. I’m not going crazy thinking about the future. I’m merely living in the now.
As I approach my afternoon shift at Knit Happens, though, my stomach tightens into a ball of nerves. Hannah and I haven’t spoken in several days—not directly, anyway. All communication has been through the Chronic Crafters message thread, careful and polite like we’re acquaintances instead of best friends.
It’s not that I think she’ll hold my spending time with Sebastian against me. Hannah has a family to keep her occupied, and I’ve embraced and supported the changes that requires. I know she also supports my dating Sebastian.
It’s that run-in at the doctors’ offices that has me on edge. Lying to my best friend feels akin to trying to digest glass, and I suspect she knows something is up and that I haven’t been telling the whole story.
